Through A Half-Breed's Eyes
by Shattersoul
Summary: Perspective is everything. A young half-breed of a less-than-acceptable species enters Hogwarts. She hopes of using the smokescreen of confusion that exists there to learn how to be human, while avoiding scrutiny. Starts during the events of Chamber of Secrets. OC main character, Diary-entry format, with occasional third-person perspectives of other characters. On Hiatus.
1. (Y1, P1) Getting There

_**Foreword** :_

 _Aurelia is an OC of mine, one who I hope to include in a game I create. She's… not exactly a normal girl, that's for certain._

 _I'm hoping to do my best at avoiding her being a Mary Sue, but if I end up veering that way, by all means let me know in the re_ views.

I plan on updating about once or maybe twice a week. Maybe more, depending on how ahead I get, or how much I enjoy writing certain chapters.

 _By the way, eventually I'll involve the main cast._

* * *

 _Originally, this was the second chapter, but the 'prologue' was to restrictive._

* * *

 _ **Edit:** You may notice a bolded number at the bottom of each page: this is merely a new way of keeping track of how many times I've edited a chapter._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Stupid train. I'm not used to moving on something that isn't me

I mean that I'm not used to being in a train. I mean.

Aw screw it.

Finally, I'm of the age now to go to Hogwarts.

Yes, _THE_ Hogwarts. Home of the 'greatest magical training available'.

Honestly though, I'm not going there because of that.

I'm going because both Mothers decided that very bad things were going down in that school, what with the resurgence of Dark Wizards (Which my Mothers are furious about, due to them being 'influential' members of 'society'.)

Bullcrap. Of course, anyone who knew their head from their ass about dark magic, would know that half of the wretches are lying, and the rest are terrified.

I'm not going to go into a whole 'puny mortals' rant, but seriously, humans are stupid.

I mean

Crap. I should probably scratch that out, or something

Wait. Never mind, I'm writing in Infernal anyway. Not like any human'd know how to read this anyway

Is that a word, human'd? Maybe not.

Right so

Well, this is technically my first entry in my diary.

Yeah, diary. Girly as get out, but

Maybe I should call it a journal.

Screw it.

Anyway, for completion's purpose, my name is Aurelia Cain.

As far as the Purebloods care, I'm a Pureblooded witch, with a family spanning back generations. And then we all died out, and then we came back, but it's now a matriarchal line. No one knows what my father's line is, and no one really cares enough to check.

As far as anyone else cares, I'm that scary bitch with black eyes, blonde hair, and far too vicious a sense of humor to be a 'proper lady'. And a mouth to match.

Sod them. I do what I want.

I mean maybe I should write about my family

Despite what belief might be spread around by the time someone is able to read this

Although, it'd probably be more likely that someone accidentally summoned a demon, and it got a hold of this book

* * *

What an asshole.

Some blonde-haired bigot, who was being followed around by a pair of bags of meat that'd make a bear look intelligent, barged into my compartment, which I had cleverly chosen because it's in the ass-end of nowhere, and it was empty

Anyway, the bigot charged in, shrieking about 'filthy mudbloods', 'blood traitors', and something about some guy named Potter

Should I know that name? I'm pretty sure I should.

Anyway, he takes three steps in from his rage, before his brain notices that I'm the only person in the room. And that I'm glaring at him, hoping that I somehow manifest the power to kill him with only my eyes.

Sadly, he doesn't die. Instead, he looks around two or three times, shrugs his shoulders, and walks out.

Seriously?

He mutters something about it being the 'wrong compartment', and leads the two inbreds away.

Actually, I think they were all inbred.

Anyway.

Where was I? Give me a minute to go back and check.

Right. My family

I've got a bit of a different family structure that most people. Or wizards. Or whatever.

Anyway. Let's drop the bomb first.

I have two mothers.

No, I don't mean I have one who birthed me, and another who looks after me.

I actually have two mothers.

And a father.

Let me explain.

Basically, it started about… at least 17 years ago? Probably more. They've never really gone into much detail about it.

Mum, uh

Human

First? Yeah. First.

First mum got killed during Christmas by some serial killer, after stealing some fancy amulet thing from a burned out, obviously evil church. Amulet turns out to be a phylactery, which raises her dead corpse as a daemon host, possessed by second mum. She then spent seven or so years rampaging around the countryside eating people.

After seven years, she finally sobered up, ended up hiding among a group of monster hunters, and eventually relearned the magic of friendship

Yeah I don't believe it either.

Honestly, I'm pretty sure she just got so frustrated with killing people, and no one catching on, that she decided to just throw in the towel and raise a family.

Anyway, eventually second mum managed to get into a situation she couldn't kill her way out of by herself, and ended up selling her soul to first mum, who was essentially a soul trapped inside of a hijacked meat puppet at the time. In return for her freedom, she helped rescue second mum.

Lost yet?

Anyway, after some point, both mums bump into _dad_ , who was first mum's school sweetheart

Apparently they met after they tried to murder each other in frustration.

My family is _weird_.

Anyway, dad was a freelance dark creature hunter. He also, interestingly enough, isn't entirely sure whether he is a pureblood or not, as he never met his family.

Mum was a possessed corpse, whose bound spirit was the copilot to a demon.

Somehow, they fell back in love.

Anyway, it took

Nope never mind.

Long story short, _magic_ , oh so much magic.

Due to side effects of magic, first mum's soul ended up manifesting as a demon as well, and now they're essentially two demons sharing a single body.

Or at least that was it last time they checked. Now I'm pretty sure they've both got similar demonic bodies, and are just sharing space because they're lonely otherwise.

I sure as hell am.

So yes, if you haven't gotten it by now, I'm a half-demon.

The wizards here probably only know about Dementors, right? Those things are lesser demons. Fear demons, to be specific.

Absolutely terrible to try and kill with standard spells. Luckily, we don't use standard spells.

One of these days, the Ministry will notice that we've been slowly killing them during the night.

So yeah, me, half-demon, is going to Hogwarts to learn magic

Well I already know magic, but it's all the killy, murderous kind. None of the useful utility stuff. Even worse, it's an absolute mess to deal with later: has a ton of fallout, magic wise, and is pretty goddamn distinctive.

Dad was the one who taught me about a third of what I know. The rest... just came to me.

Turns out dying completely washed first mum's magic potential, and now she's basically just got her inherent abilities now.

Not like she cares. She doesn't need magic to kill things. That's what claws are for.

Anyway. I'm on a train. You probably know that.

I have no friends right now, because, as I said, Half-breed.

Being a half-breed is okay, though. I've got a pretty massive magic pool, although I have a hard time doing magic that isn't a certain type. Namely, fire.

I am really, really good with fire. And not just straight-up fire spells: anything involving, or potentially involving fire.

And the correlation is stupid too.

Illusion? Difficult.

Illusion of a flame? Easy.

See? It's stupid.

Anyway, fire is my speciality. But I can't, for the life of me, cast anything involving ice, or water. Or light. Light magic does not agree with me.

That might cause issues later.

Other benefits of being a half-breed include all-around magic resistance

Actually, that might cause more problems…

Immunity to potions and poisons...

Okay. This is going to be an absolute mess.

Black blood, extremely fast regeneration, vulnerability to silver

Crap! Why'd I write that!

And uhh, I can see magic. Kinda.

Dammit. The next seven years are going to be a mess, aren't they.

Someone just came by, told me to put on fancy robes. I think I'll go do that.

* * *

For the record, I'm on a boat.

We're currently,

Yes we. I'm in a boat with some other kids. They're busy being terrified that something in the water will come eat them.

Not like it will. Everything in the lake seems to be terrified of me. Maybe for good reason, but I'm taking my gifts when they show up.

Anyway, it's apparently tradition to take a boat across a lake during your first year.

Everyone else is riding in a carriage pulled by some dead-looking winged horse thing…

What was their name again? Ah who cares.

One of the kids just looked over my shoulder and asked what I was writing. I offered to backhand him into the water. That shut him up.

Actually, he's carrying a camera around. Probably a

What do they call humans with technology here?

Right muggle.

So this muggle is staring at my diary, carrying a camera

I got less than pleased.

I threatened to throw his camera into the water if he took a picture of me.

He looked like I kicked his puppy.

I don't like kicking puppies. It's inefficient and altogether a waste of time.

I'm off topic again.

We're approaching the castle. It's pretty massive, and positively thrumming with magic. In fact, if I didn't have as much practice with my mage sight, which I am so glad I can turn off, I'd be hurling into the lake right now.

Actually, I might be able to use that against people in a duel, here.

Mage sight. Let me explain.

Demons hunt based on essence. Essence is life force. Essence is also magic.

Thus, demons are able to 'see' magic. Enchantments are visible, and so are people, even through walls. Stronger humans/creatures/monsters glow brighter, and it's pretty easy to tell what sort of magic they are suited for. Only problem is, the more magic, the more you take in, and the whole 'mage sight' thing sorta freaks out when there's too much prey running about.

Luckily, I'm a half-breed, so my eyes are able to function normally as well, although that might be a part of the fact that daemonhosts like Mother can also turn off their vision, if only for a slight while.

Anyway, I'm hoping with all my might that there's no anti-demon wards in the castle. It'd suck to be outed that quickly.

The boat's almost at the castle now. It's time to go inside.

* * *

 **V3**


	2. (Y1, P2) Settling In

**Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Well. That was extremely strange.

Somehow, against all odds, I'm in Gryffindor.

But yeah, backtracking for context here.

The inside of the castle lived up to expectations, flying candles, a charmed ceiling, and more children than you can shake a stick at, all in a room designed to hold at least ten times the current population. I actually started drooling at the sheer ambient magic in the air. Luckily, no one noticed.

It's going to be a bit difficult not getting outed here.

Speaking of outed, I can now confirm that Hogwarts has no anti-demon wards. At all.

Seriously, what the hell were they thinking?

I mean, the wards are supposed to be peerless in country! I didn't check the wards for other types of magical creatures, but I have to hope that they cover them

They better cover them. Imagine if a Giant, or even a Banshee was able to walk right into the school.

Horrifying possibility aside, back to entering the school.

Here I am, standing around like a penguin, surrounded by several dozen children my age.

And then, all of a sudden, this hat starts bursting into song.

I've heard of enchanted objects. I've seen them, lived them.

But seriously, an enchanted singing hat?

I involuntarily turned to my left, to another blonde (seriously, why is everyone here blonde?)

Her grey eyes were unfocused, and she managed to answer the question before I even asked.

I swear, her pupils made a possession victim look normal. I mean, I could practically smell the potential for mental magic on her, but seriously.

She creeped me out a little.

Anyway, about forty seconds later, my mind was now graced by two or three conspiracy theories, and several facts about creatures that I'm not entirely sure exist.

I never ended up asking for her name, because a teacher (at least, I'm pretty sure the old lady was a teacher) started calling names.

I was pretty close to the top of the list.

Anyway, one by one, I watched kids walk up to the hat, put it on, then the hat would grow a face and scream something that was probably a word, but I didn't know what it meant.

Eventually, it was my turn, and I walked up to the hat.

I uhh

How do I describe what happened

Screw it, I'll write it like it was. I need context for this.

Anyway. I put on the hat, and suddenly a voice fills my mind. Not like it's taking over me, or anything, but more like someone decided to hook the hat up to a telepath and have it beam information into my head.

And the first thing the hat says is "What the bloody hell."

Mentally, I ended up asking it what exactly it was supposed to do, and what the names it was calling out was.

I've never known that a hat was physically capable of sighing, but it somehow managed.

Basically, it boiled things down for me.

There's four houses.

First one's cannon fodder. Kids that are too brave, or too stupid to know fear. Apparently it has good connotations, but considering it had the second-highest fatality rate of any of the four?

Second one was bookworms. Asocial freaks who hated dealing with people, and would spend their days in a library. Apparently they were nosy as get out, valued grades over anything, and tended to be obsessive. Any of those four things would've turned me away, so I actually stopped listening to the hat's explanation.

Not like I really listened to any of them in the first place.

Third one was best described as 'minionpalooza'. Besides being openly toted as being evil (which was plain and stupid), it was full of psychopaths, annoyances, and disasters-in-the-making. I think I grinned when I considered joining it, before the hat

Well, I think I ended up backing out when the hat started screaming about something like 'keep the body count to the minimum, please.'

Anyway, with that house ignored, it described the last one. It took four seconds of listening to the house's lofty goals of 'friendship, hard work, and understanding' before I came to a conclusion.

Not only was that house probably the one least likely to get a person killed, but probably would be enjoyable too.

Now split mentally split between 'brave idiots' and 'hug and be friends', the hat asked me a question which basically amounted to 'if you bump into a troll, what would you do?'

Apparently replying 'burn it from the toes up' was not a valid, respectable answer, because it shocked the hat into silence again.

I was about to ask it another question, before the hat screamed 'CANNON FODDER!' verbally.

Seeing that I was no longer needed, I removed the hat, and took in the scene.

Apparently, about half of the hall was staring at me. Seeing no other option, I skipped towards the table with the bravest-looking kids, before being redirected to a different table, to an area which was dominated by redheads.

I learned a bit later that I managed to somehow offend about half of the school.

Go me.

Anyway, apparently the students are paired up in their dorms, so I got paired up with one of the many redheads.

Her name's Ginny Weasley, by the way, and she's busy writing in _her_ diary over in the corner.

To be honest, her diary sorta stinks like evil. And no regular evil, but soul-magic evil. I hate soul magic, but I don't really have any background knowledge here. Maybe soul-magic enriched diaries are a thing here?

Then again, my diary also stinks like evil.

Maybe she knows where I can buy another one? I might end up needing to buy another, after I run out of pages.

Anyway, a quick analysis of my dorm-mate has revealed a couple of important facts.

One, she's absolutely obsessed about some boy, who I haven't actually gotten a real name for. Instead, she rambles about some 'boy-who-lived'.

No clue what significance that even has. Doesn't every boy live? Was it a disastrous birth, that killed his mother? Was it some sort of fairy-tale story of a boy who survived a shipwreck? Tell me details, girl!

But yeah, besides her obsessive crush, she also gives off a fair amount of serial-killer vibes.

I mean, not an _ACTIVE_ serial killer, but more of a _POTENTIAL_ one. I actually feel sorry for whatever girl tries to take her crush.

I can only hope she kills them quickly. Note to self, identify Ginny's crush, and avoid like the plague.

Final observation is that she's a lot better with her hands than you'd expect: she caught the several objects I threw at her by 'accident' with ease. She'd do quite well on a sports team. Course, I'd also be wary of her stealing things…

Note to self, protect personal belongings. Stick to non-lethal.

She's looking at me now. Gonna deal with this real quick.

* * *

Anyway. Evil diary aside, it took some explanation from Ginny to figure out what exactly is going on.

Apparently there was a book I was supposed to read. I mean, I know I have it in my trunk, but I've never actually OPENED the thing.

Maybe I should at some point.

Anyway, I digress.

There's four houses apparently, we're in Gryffindor (The house of the brave), which apparently her family has been a part of for decades.

Then there's Slytherin, the Minionpalooza I was talking about earlier. Apparently they're all evil. As in, irredeemably evil. I don't entirely believe it, because being pure evil takes a _heck_ of a lot of work. Far more than any kid'd be willing to do, anyway.

Then there's Ravenclaw, the bookworms.

To my immense disappointment, the name of the fourth house was Hufflepuff.

Seriously? How is someone supposed to take a house like that seriously, with a name like Hufflepuff?

I immediately asked to instead dub them 'Survivors', but got a weird look in return.

Anyway I managed to get into the 'only good house' (as if!), and I should really read that book before I get in over my head.

Okay. I wasn't really paying attention to my supplies when I was buying them, but might as well write a list down here, because I don't trust Ginny not to steal my stuff when I leave the room. Seriously, with a name like 'Weasley', what am I supposed to think besides 'born thief'?

\- Several brilliant fiction books written by one Gilderoy Lockhart.

Yknow, I'm actually pretty amazed at the dedication this guy takes to make his stories realistic. It shows true penmanship. I'll need to get this guy a gift in appreciation at some point. I mean, it's a bit of a cocky move to make the main character share his name, but everyone has their own ego, right?

\- A few sets of robes and a cloak

Black is great, but I like silver as well.. Silver and red. I need to figure out how to dye them somehow. You wouldn't be able to pay me to wear the hat, though.

\- Textbooks, assorted

\- Set of potion supplies (cauldron, scales, etc)

\- Telescope

\- Second, public wand (Brazilian Teak with Salamander core)

Honestly, the second wand is just there, because my first wand freaks people out. Mostly similar to the whole confusion earlier about the soul-diary thing. Basically, my Mothers made my first wand for me.

So, story time.

Wands work because they have a conductive material (Usually wood), encasing a channelling material. Different woods are good at different things, and cores often affect how spells are cast, and how much power they can handle.

Channelling material is usually whatever the heck the wandmaker can get their hands on. Usually it's wood, because it's _traditional_ , dammit, and it usually has the best conductivity anyway.

It's also known that, magic wise, wizards are potentially one of the most magical creatures alive in the world today. It's also known that, to most wizards, there is no greater magic than blood.

Thus, my first wand was actually carved from my mothers' severed arm, and thus is a demon-bone wand, with a demon-blood core. It has a heck of a lot of power, but doesn't really do well with utility spells. It also, yknow, is made out of bone, stinks like evil, and is pretty much solid blood magic, so I can't really wave it around in public without drawing all sorts of unwanted attention.

They managed to regrow their arm in hours, by the way. Full-blooded demonic regeneration is insane.

I picked up the second wand because I needed a 'mainstream' wand to use in public.

Unfortunately, half of the wands I tried out caught fire. Which I actually expected. Fire and I tend to go hand-in-hand.

It's one thing casting spells with a crazy amount of magical power with an unnatural wand specifically keyed to my blood, and there's another casting it with a wand meant for humans.

Eventually, the wandmaker settled for just picking the most fire-proof stick he could find. Brazilian Teak is pretty much fireproof, and Salamanders eat fire.

Thus, the wand is pretty much perfect for channelling fire. Which means it'll likely survive me using it.

I did get a disapproving stare from the wandmaker, though. Apparently picking a wand based on what it could survive, rather than personal affinity is frowned upon. Who knew?

\- Familiar, Cat, Frog, or Owl

That... might be an issue. I do in fact already have a familiar, but, just like the wand, I can't really use it in public. At least, not yet, for sure.

Meet Cinder the Fire Elemental. Or at least, that's the closest analogue in the Wizarding world here.

I accidentally summoned her when I was four. I was lonely, and wanted a friend. I named her Cindy, which was short for Cinder.

Anyway, her preferred form resembles a fairy with bat wings, made of solid fire. Of course, being elemental fire, she doesn't have a set shape.

Also, I'm pretty sure she's copied a part of my personality, because it's actually rather hard to get her to do things directly against her will.

Long story short, I don't think anyone will appreciate me having her flap/wander around. Maybe in a couple of years when the expectations slack, and I'm not immediately identified as 'irredeemably evil'.

Not like she needs to eat when not summoned, anyway. When I do summon her, however, she can survive off of whatever useless papers I end up receiving. Or wood. Wood would be good as well.

Anyway, classes start tomorrow. Hopefully I'll have an easy go, and things will go perfectly fine.

Oh who am I kidding. Knowing my luck, I just walked directly into a powder keg.

* * *

 **V3**


	3. (Y1, P3) Class In Session

**Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Today was exhausting.

I didn't even have time scribble anything down, too many eyes around, not to mention the strict times

Essentially, there was a lot of dashing from class to class.

But yes, for the classes themselves.

Transfiguration was... interesting.

I pretty much messed up again right off of the bat.

First thing everyone did when entering the classroom, was search for the teacher. I, on the other hand, was convinced that the teacher was in fact in front of all of us.

I was less than pleasantly told that I was staring at a cat. There was some snickering all around.

A cat that had a massive magical signature, but I couldn't really tell anyone that.

And then the cat turned into the teacher, I received points (look into what points are) for having a sharp eye, and we set right to work.

And sadly for me, the first task was transmuting a match into a pin.

A silver pin.

So, let's go down the facts here. We've got a match, which practically hums with fire energy potential, which I'm trying to transfigure into a silver pin, which is a substance which hurts to even come in physical contact with.

Long story short, I manage to pull it off as the fourth or fifth student to get any effect, and while the transformation was more than halfway, the pin was perpetually on fire.

Even worse, dispelling the fire turned it back into a match.

It turns out, that trying to transform something, while mentally reciting "This is what kills me" over and over doesn't actually help any.

Apparently I _did_ do better than a majority of my classmates, as only one or two had managed even a partial transmutation, but theirs weren't on fire.

To be honest, I did better than I expected.

Next was Potions.

The class took place in a _dungeon_ , of all places, where I knew fumes would be unable to escape. I briefly worried for the affects on my mental health the smoke and fumes might have, before I tossed those concerns away.

It's not like we were brewing anything dangerous, right?

Wrong.

First class, we're asked to brew something, that according to the teacher, (who looked like he was not only extremely frustrated, but underpaid as well), was exactly two and a half steps away from poison.

The teacher ran down a list of things. I'm not entirely sure what he was talking about. Maybe about which homeless shelters were the nicest this time of year.

Anyway, with only half a clue to go on, me and my partner (which happened to be Ginny, for some reason), got right down to brewing this disaster.

First problem: silver potions knives. I got around this by wearing the mandatory fireproof gloves (I honestly was unsure I'd ever see a use for them, so I'm glad I did).

Second problem. I had no idea what I was brewing, so I just watched the people around me.

I took what everyone else took, prepared the ingredients the way everyone else was, and slowly worked my way through.

Oh. Third problem. Occasionally one of the other kids would throw ingredients into another's cauldron. I'm not sure whether they were aiming at the cauldron or not: a majority of the ingredients tended to splat on the students instead. I don't envy who ends up having to clean up the mess.

I could occasionally hear the teacher screaming at various students, so I assumed he was doing his job.

Eventually, we got the job done (after deflecting a few mystery ingredients on a low arc towards our cauldron), and managed to extract some sort of concoction.

Considering how it didn't _smell_ like poison, and it didn't melt the flask we filled with it, I considered it a job well done.

I really need to read those damn textbooks.

And yknow.

Learn people's names.

The other two classes were sorta pointless.

Herbology was basically dealing with various poisonous or dangerous plants, none of which were in the category of 'likely to hurt me'. Thus, I coasted by mostly on momentum.

History of Magic wasn't even really a class. There was just a ghost babbling. I had to check my schedule several times to make sure I wasn't in the wrong room. Still, I sat there the entire time at attention, wondering when the real teacher would show up. Sadly, just ten minutes from dismissal, it finally sunk in that I was, indeed staring at my teacher, and that no, it would not get more interesting.

I left the class grumbling. I'll need to find a way around History, if I'm to survive this school year. Maybe I can develop alternatives to some of the charms I'm having issues with.

Or y'know, I can just write in my journal during History. I only stopped myself from doing so because I thought the ghost was a joke, and that there was a real teacher watching.

Either way, it's really late, and I should get ready to sleep.

* * *

Another day, another time I feel like either running away, or vomiting. I understand that they need to teach apprentices the basics, but really, why is everything so slow?

It turns out the classes are on a two-day alternating schedule, and thus every other day has the same classes. But onto today itself.

I'm not entirely sure what to think about Defense against Dark Arts.

It turns out that the teacher was the author of the awesome fiction books from earlier, and, while it was obvious Lockhart was a creative genius, he'd long since passed the point of being modest.

He was prancing about, acting like the world itself revolved around him, and speaking as if the books were in first-person from him.

I worry for his mental stability.

Anyway, he handed out a test, which contained several pointless questions.

Assuming that this was a joke, and that the test was not, in fact, worth marks, I proceeded to write absolute nonsense, followed by signing my name as "Melvin Pantser".

As we handed in our 'tests', I asked Lockhart the question I'd been hoping to ask all class.

Namely: _'Your stories are amazing! How many hours of research does it take for you to have these stories be so realistic?'_

He immediately put on a face that was halfway between utter confusion, pride, and fear of all things, before giving a non-committal answer of 'I've lived the books myself'.

He made a further confused noise after I asked him how long he'd been a method actor, and who taught him.

Seeing no other option, I grabbed his hand, shook it, and then wandered away after proclaiming 'Huge fan!'.

I swear, does that man not know how to receive actual compliments?

Charms was entirely different bag of tricks. A bag of tricks taught by a midget.

We learned a spell that, to be honest, only caused the tip of our wands to light up.

I'm quite embarrassed by how much difficulty I had with it.

I mean, I got it done, but mostly because it was such a basic spell

I really need to find a way to get around my restrictions.

Finally, I have proven that I can indeed fly the brooms here. Although I still prefer my own wings. Much more control, and harder to steal from me.

Next was Astronomy, AKA stare at points of light in the sky for an hour or so. As you can probably tell, it was as boring as I expected. Not quite as bad as History of Babbling, but pretty damn close.

Eugh

I'm hoping that at some point something interesting happens: These classes are so damn slow

And half of them are pointless, too.

From what I can tell, History of Magic has no actual purpose, Defense Against Dark Arts is actually a book club (Actually, since books are a type of art, maybe it's teaching us how to tell good books from bad? In that case, I should probably make sure not to bring my diary to that class)

(and tell Ginny too, now that I think about it)

Astronomy is beyond boring, and Flying, well.

I'm glad that Flying is only mandatory for First-years.

Wait a minute, Ginny's talking to herself again.

* * *

Okay, that's weird. Ever since we settled in, I've started noticing that Ginny occasionally starts talking to herself.

And it's not a regular sort of talking to herself either: sometimes it's English, yeah, but I've started catching bits where she's just hissing to herself.

And it's only ever when she writes in her diary.

I'm probably going to need to take a look at it, to see where she plans to hide the bodies.

I'll finish warding my trunk when she falls asleep. No point putting in security, when the very person you're securing against is aware of what exactly you're doing.

Anyway, for completions sake, I'm thinking on putting in blood-keyed wards, which trigger a good old fashioned flame-chains when opened by anyone who isn't me. It'll be surprising enough to catch her off guard, I'm pretty sure, and harmless enough to not really hurt her. It should also be loud enough to wake me up.

I mean, I hope she doesn't find out that I have it warded at all; I'd be much more trusting of her if the runes remained undisturbed entirely.

Oh, she's fallen asleep now. Gonna quickly start that warding now.

* * *

Done. Nice and secure.

Actually, Ginny's still clutching her diary. I wonder what's in it.

Give me a second.

* * *

That's... incredibly weird.

The diary's entirely blank.

Or at least the page she had open is blank.

I don't want to risk paging through it, in case I fire off some sort of weird ward, but still

You'd think that there'd be at least some trace of ink in the page.

Well, I can figure out more tomorrow. Going to go asleep instead today.

I really need something interesting to do

I swear, if things don't pick up soon, I might end up ransacking her stuff before she does mine.


	4. (Y1, P4) Meet The Gang

_In case it's not obvious by the end of the chapter, Aurelia is NOT joining the golden trio. At least, not now. Or for a while yet. She's going to sit in the background, where it's nice and comfortable._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Classes continue to be boring.

Transfiguration continues to be confusing, Charms is more or less easy, Potions is all about mixing, and Lockhart continues to evade my questions about publishers, researching staff, and where he gets his brilliant ideas from.

Everything else continues to suck.

I've slowly managed to learn the names of the various teachers. I'm actually pretty sad that it took as much effort as it did. I had to grill Ginny to get the information, of all things.

Yknow, about half of this problem could be solved if I went and made myself a group of actual friends.

Getting all of my information from a biased source isn't

Well, I'm not sure if it's the best way to do things.

Transfiguration is taught by cat-lady, now identified as McGonagal. Apparently she's also something called a Head of House for Gryffindor, but that is sorta not relevant for my interests.

Charms's midget is named Flitwick, and there's rumors that he's a half-breed of some kind.

From what I have seen of him, he's either part greater pixie, goblin, dwarf, or leprechaun.

Regardless, I'm not going to delve into his ancestry, if he doesn't delve into mine.

Still, if worst comes to worst, it's good to have blackmail.

Potions is taught by Snape, who, according to universally-accepted gossip, hates Gryffindors with a burning passion. It's pretty rare for a person to become near-universally reviled, but he's making it his life goal, or at least, that's what I've heard. Honestly, I think he just hates his job.

I mean, who would WANT to watch a bunch of children try and fail to not make deadly poisons?

At least not while responsible for them. When you're off the clock, it's great fun.

He has occasionally stopped by my station to give me grief, but considering that I have no idea what I'm doing, any critique is good critique.

Although I really need to figure out what these 'points' things are, and why they're valuable. I guess I have something new to learn about.

The ghost is named Binns. That is all that I am willing to learn about that pathetic waste of space.

Herbology is aptly-named Sprout, Flight is Hooch, and Astronomy is Sinestro.

I mean Sinistra. Oops. I don't think yellow is her color, anyway.

With the unimportant bits out of the way, I guess I should get into what I've been doing in the last while.

Between wandering around the castle, and trying (read, failing) to memorize facts from that book, I've actually been pretty busy. Ginny hasn't triggered my runes yet, although she did yell at me when I got too pushy when asking about her diary, and how it worked.

I probably overstepped the mark, there.

Anyway, my current goal is learning some sort of water spell, that fits within my limits. After all, being entirely specialized might cause me a bit of problems down the road.

Huh, someone's at the door.

* * *

I was unaware that Ginny was from a family of pranksters.

Anyway, some brunette with buck teeth (affinity for order magic, low-medium aura) was ferrying a message for me, asking for my presence in the common room. Having no real goals for the day, I followed her.

I wouldn't quite say accosted, but I was indeed jumped by a pair of redheaded twins, who proceeded to ask me about the well-being of Ginny. Seeing a small family resemblance between them and my roommate, I reported what I had seen. Namely, she spends all day either writing in her diary, or obsessing over some guy.

They broke into laughter when I voiced my concerns of her murdering someone.

This was brought on by information that Ginny was 'not the murdering type, but rather the slow, simmering kind'. Their words, not mine.

Anyway, now happy with the fact that their little sister was indeed fine, the twins introduced themselves.

I'm going to write their names down for later details, because I'd have issues telling them apart otherwise.

For the record, both of the two had an affinity for trickery magic.

Anyway.

George is the one with the weaker aura of the two.

Fred is the one with the stronger one.

Any other method of telling the two apart has failed me, forcing me to rely upon magic sight. And the differences in aura are pretty small, barely noticeable if I hadn't spent time attempting to find a difference.

I'd like to say that I could tell the two apart immediately, but that'd be incorrect.

No, I have to say that I ended up staring at Fred for a minute or so to make sure I knew who was who. I think it creeped him out.

Now thoroughly introduced, I was led to another small group.

Wow.

Another redhead, this one with a different magical potential (I _think_ it was charms and deception, but I can't really pin it down), who was hastily dubbed Ronniekins by the twins (Real name Ron, which was explained in heart-felt detail), the brunette from earlier (Hermione), and

Well.

The kids I've seen around here have small magical auras. Usually things like charms, illusion, or ice.

Not this kid.

This kid reeked of blood magic. Especially his forehead. Between the fact that he had an obviously-massive magical pool, that he stunk of blood magic, AND that he looked like he had lived on the streets all of his life, I actually fumbled a bit when I was introduced to him.

Street-kid's name was Harry. I'm quite sad to say that I stuttered several times.

It was pretty hard to get a reading on his aura, but it was definitely unnatural, it had hints of death magic (red flag!), disarming magic, and even a bit of transmutation. In other words, a completely discordant aura.

Anyway, Harry walked and talked like he was two steps away from either running for cover, or springing to attack,

And uhh

Well, I'm quite concerned about whether or not he'll do something rash. He gives off the feeling of a cornered animal, unsure whether to piss itself, or to kill everything around it.

At least he talked like a humble kid, I'd hate to be on his bad side if he got mad.

We bantered for a couple of minutes, nothing of any real consequence.

Ron was an arrogant prat the entire time. I'm unsure if he was doing it on purpose, but he had less than no people skills. I was glad to be out of his presence.

Hermione, on the other hand, is only a year older than me, yet talks as if she was a decade my senior. She also lacked people skills, but at least was bearable to talk to.

Between talking in complete confidence about topics in a book, or

well, I think she only talked about things in a book. She wasn't exactly the most creative girl.

Harry, on the other hand, was pretty much silent. I think he was staring at me for a portion of the conversation: when I made eye contact, his face betrayed suspicion, hope, and a little bit of fear.

I couldn't get away from them fast enough.

I thanked Fred and George for the opportunity to meet new people (although they snickered a bit when I called them their names, which was slightly confusing), and brushed past them to go back up the stairs to the girls dorm.

I'm back in my room now. Sleep cannot possibly claim me fast enough.

* * *

Well, that was extremely concerning.

I woke up this morning to the sound of incantation. I was barely able to open my eyes in time for a red light to shoot from Ginny's wand to my torso.

Also of note was the fact that her aura was messed up, and her eyes were red. Oh, and she was carrying her diary.

Not seeing any other option, I just lay prone on my bed, having decided to stay still until she finally left. No clue what she's doing, but I honestly don't care enough to check. After all, if she doesn't pry into my habits, I won't pry into hers.

Two minutes later, she left the room, walking like she had some unshakeable purpose.

It's Saturday, so it's not like I have classes to miss, so I think I'll just stay in my room until she's done.

I guess I'll get started on that charm.

I hope whoever Ginny is after doesn't make too much of a mess.

* * *

Well, I'm done for tonight.

I managed to draft up a couple of potential spells, although none of them are real water spells.

It seems my task will be a lot harder than I expected.

On a slightly different note, Ginny finally made it back to the room, noticeably exhausted, and slightly damp. Obviously, she was less than alert, because she slipped on one of my papers, and knocked herself out cold. I had to carry her to her bed.

The paper she slipped over had one of my options, a steam-based charm, written on it.

Seems promising, will look into it.

Anyway, Ginny's in bed now, and I don't really care enough to wake her to ask her about her day.

I guess I'll feign ignorance about the whole 'harmful spell' thing. After all, she wasn't surprised to see me moving around with no harmful effects, so it was probably nonfatal.

Although if she keeps casting on me, eventually she'll find out.

I wonder how difficult memory-altering spells are?


	5. (Y1, P5) Duelling Interests

_For the record, I dislike Gilderoy Lockhart. However, the man must be doing SOMETHING right. His books, no matter the content, are beloved children's stories. Either he has a ghost writer (which'd open a HUGE hole in his conspiracy, and that'd be a leak he'd be unwilling to deal with), or he is a masterful writer._

 _Aurelia has no prior knowledge of his books, and assumes that he is wandering around the country gathering stories to adapt into his book. Which, in a roundabout way, is indeed true.  
_

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Finally, things are starting to pick up.

Just today, some joker decided to petrify a cat, and scrawl magical graffiti on a wall.

Something about a 'Chamber Of Secrets'.

Of course, everyone is now panicking, in fear that they'll be next.

Seriously, who cares? It's just a cat. Someone obviously was just testing a new spell, and wanted to try it on a living target. After all, it's not like a cat is worth anything: it's not like there's a ready supply of monsters around to test harmful spells on.

Anyway, the nurse said that the cat was entirely fine, but was in complete stasis.

As in, stone-solid stasis.

I _need_ to learn that spell.

Anyway, there's been some talk about an 'Heir of Slytherin', which apparently is Wizard-Speak for 'Antichrist'. Considering how old the school is, and how long ago the title could have been assigned, that title could have fallen to absolutely anyone.

Ginny didn't seem too surprised by the whole chamber prank, but after dealing with her brothers for a half-hour, I wouldn't put it past them to do something similar.

On an unrelated note, Lockhart has just put up an invitation for a duelling club. I'll probably show up, although it'll be pretty hard to not to default to my usual, lethal spells.

If anything, it'll be a good exercise in control.

It's Thursday now, and the club's on Sunday. I'm looking forward to it.

* * *

Today's dinner was delicious. One of the chefs accidentally under cooked some of the meat, quite severely. I've always been partial to bloody, rare meat.

I don't actually have anything better to write. It seems the whole chamber thing was a one-off prank.

* * *

Street-kid is the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry, the kid who REEKS of blood magic, acts like he's barely above feral, is the Boy-Who-Lived, predestined savior of the Wizard World.

I'm unsure whether to laugh, or to cry.

Backtracking time.

Duelling club was amazing.

It opened up with a small speech by Lockhart, followed quickly by a small demonstration by Lockhart and Snape.

Snape's spell (which supposedly was supposed to only _DISARM_ a target) managed to ragdoll Lockhart backwards.

I mean, it definitely disarmed him, but I was busy watching Lockhart do an impromptu backflip, land hard, before climbing back to his feet, and cracking a joke.

Man would be a brilliant actor.

I think I was the only non-Slytherin clapping in the room at the end of it.

Snape shot me a look halfway between confusion and disdain.

It's not like I was clapping for him.

After that, we were paired up. I got paired up with another girl about a year older than me, whom had sparkles (sparkles, why?) in her hair. It couldn't help but give me ideas. Horrible, terrible ideas.

As for the practice itself, we were to throw disarming spells at each other until we got tired.

I can say with absolute certainty my partner tired first.

But it wasn't exactly smooth: Once or twice I inadvertently dropped into my old casting stance, and blocked a spell or two with a wandless shield. My partner was luckily the only one who noticed, and I was able to explain it away as old family magic.

Still, I'm glad that I only slipped up on defense. I didn't kill anyone, at least.

About ten rounds in, Snape calls up Douchebag (Now identified as Malfoy), and Potter (allowing me to learn his whole name) to the front stage.

The two square off on the stage, throwing rays of multi-colored magic at each other. Potter's magic more or less remained the same color, whereas Malfoy's colors continued to change, not to mention slowly build up in power.

Eventually, Malfoy cast a conjuration rather than a directed spell, and flung a snake at Potter. Probably as either a distraction, or to bite him.

The snake slowly moved towards Potter, before abruptly turning towards another nearby boy and lunging towards him. The rushing snake approached its new victim with menace unknown to creatures over six inches in height, before it was halted by hissing noises emanating from Potter.

In retrospect, it was pretty similar to the noises Ginny was making with her diary. Huh.

Anyway, the snake stops, stares at Potter, and then just wanders off, probably to eat rats or something until it unsummons itself.

Meanwhile, the room explodes into murmurs, panicked screams, and utter confusion.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to my partner and ask for another round.

I get a stare back in return.

Sick and tired of not knowing things, I interrogate my partner for information.

So, it turns out snake-speak is another one of those 'Solid Evil'(tm) things. And is associated with the 'Heir of Slytherin' (Read, Antichrist).

My counter-argument is why he stuck to only disarming Malfoy, when he could have hit him with that awesome petrification spell that he used on the cat.

Receiving no response, I turned to the crowd.

Approximately three-quarters of the students were screaming about how Potter was a Dark Wizard, the Heir, or going to kill everyone.

Goddamn idiots.

NEVER accuse someone of being a dark wizard without proof.

At best you offend them.

At worst, you're correct, and they prove it by killing you. ONLY accuse someone of being a dark wizard when you're both absolutely sure, AND have enough firepower behind you to reduce them to ashes. And their ashes to finer, slightly-smaller ashes.

Through it all, Lockhart's taking in the scene, likely to adapt into some sort of comedy novel, and Potter's looking around, with a face as if the world was crumbling around him.

Wait. Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived...

Shit.

Well, if he's a dark wizard, then Ginny definitely has a type.

A serial killer and a Dark Wizard.

Actually, that reminds me of my parents. I mean, Mothers aren't serial killers any more, and Dad is only a Dark Wizard due to what he knows, rather than what he does...

Anyway.

The club sorta dissolved, although it took a while, because a few of the students had to be physically removed.

Are weak hearts a regular thing for wizards? Because this is the fourth or fifth time I've seen them faint.

Conclusion.

Either Potter's a Dark Wizard, and I should decide between supporting him, opposing him, or running for the hills,

or Potter's the center of a whirling maelstrom of stupid gossip, and someone's trying to frame him.

Actually, I'll go ask Ginny.

* * *

Okay, apparently Ginny doesn't believe that Potter is a Dark Wizard. She also is unwilling to refer to him as either Harry, Potter, or even Street-Kid.

She even got slightly offended by my accusation. And by slightly, I mean she threw a book at me. Remember how I said earlier that she had an arm that'd be good for sports? The book flew across the entire room, before striking me in the forehead. If I hadn't seen it coming, I wouldn't have been able to fall down in a convincing way.

By the way, it was a textbook. Not the evil diary. I would have dodged, if that were the case.

Still, she eventually calmed down, asked if I needed help, and agreed that the gossip needed to stop before something bad could happen. She probably thinks that the gossip could drive her beloved away.

I honestly believe that if it goes on long enough, Potter might eventually just lose it, and follow everyone's expectations.

Sometimes, I'm glad no one knows I am a half-demon.

* * *

The rumor's in full swing now, and whoever petrified the cat has decided to begun hitting students.

Apparently the story of the Heir involved quite a bit of racism, because the victims are all from non-magical families.

Which is goddamn weird, because the research I've done on Harry (I had to be sure) revealed his mother was, in fact, part of the same group of people the victims are.

So unless he really, really hated his dead mother, I have no reason to believe Potter is responsible.

Too bad no one else is able to follow my logic.

Ginny snapped my proof up like a particularly delicious morsel, as anything that proved that her object of affection was perfect shines brighter than any gem.

I'm actually afraid for Potter's well-being. Ginny honestly acts like she wants to rip his clothing off.

As well as the face off of any other girl who looks at him.

Yet another reason to avoid Potter.

At least, that's the case when she's not in her manic-depressive moods. Did I mention that? She's been getting more and more mopey lately.

As for the petrified victims, they're sitting in the hospital wing, each occupying a bed.

I have no idea why: if they don't eat, sleep, or require food, why not just stand them up in a classroom somewhere? It's not like they're aware of their surroundings, so it'd be better to put them somewhere else, and save the hospital wing for those whom are actually injured.

* * *

I'm done the steam charm. It took me a week-and-a-half, but I've finally got a spell resembling a water spell.

It sprays a small cloud of mostly-dry steam. The steam's pretty warm, but barely enough to redden skin.

It's pretty rubbish for combat right now, but I'm pretty sure I can find a way to improve it.

It's pretty handy for cleaning clothing, though.

I'll hand it in for Charms at some point, probably when we are doing the water-based charm.

Next on the list is something based on that glitter the girl from Duelling was wearing.

I know it's petty, stupid, and all-around pointless, but I have an idea of what to do, and if it works

It'll be hilarious.


	6. (Y1, P6) Judge The Cover

_Yes, the story is essentially turning out to be crack, but I'm hoping to interlace some interesting scenarios as well. After all, eventually the novelty will wear out, and the cast will begin to adapt..._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Well, all I can say is that I made it to late February before I couldn't handle it any more.

I've finally got tired of waiting, and stole Ginny's diary while she was asleep. A quick examination revealed it to be pretty much solid magic, but nothing that'd directly harm me. Also, it wasn't her diary, it was someone by the initials T. M. Riddle.

Writing in it revealed an intelligence of sort. And by sort, I mean that the diary immediately asked who I was. I replied Ginny Weasley, of course. It immediately erased all ink on the page, and called me a liar.

Assuming that the magic within the diary acted as an organiser, I began attempting to access whatever was written a couple of days ago.

By the time I started asking it where 'I' had hid the bodies, the diary had stopped responding to my prodding, and had begun returning nothing but obscenities.

It was then that I came to several conclusions.

One, the diary was probably sentient, and was aware that I was not Ginny Weasley

Two, I hate that diary.

I returned the diary back to Ginny's possession.

* * *

Ginny hit me with a spell again today.

I am beginning to lose patience with this.

However, I'm not willing to directly harm her, nor am I willing to blow my cover just to scare her straight.

Seeing no other choice, I tracked down potentially the largest potential gold mine in the entire building.

I asked the Weasley Twins for knowledge on how to prank their sister.

Sure, they were confused about my urge to do so, but a quick explanation of returning the favor for a bunch of hexes (I think they were hexes...), and they were willing to listen to my plea.

A couple of ideas later, I eventually settled upon potions.

Also, vandalism.

Mother taught me an important lesson a while ago.

When doing something stupid, ensure that it is SO stupid, that no sane individual would ever believe it to have happened. If the plan is daring, idiotic, and embarrassing enough, and if the victim would rather die than admit the details, then you have truly succeeded.

And thus my current plan was hatched.

In three days, I'll begin operation **Stonebound Novel**.

The details are simple.

One: Ginny is far too attached to her diary.

Two: I hate that piece of crap. It is also sentient. It also absorbs anything applied to its pages.

Three: Luna Lovegood (The creepy girl from earlier this year) is obviously under the influence of something.

Four: No one would believe if I was accused of using potions against a diary.

I have no idea what will happen, but at this point, even petty, worthless revenge would make me feel better now. I'm within arm's reach of just straight up killing her.

* * *

Stealing Lovegood's 'medicine' was easier than I expected.

Mostly because all I had to do was mention at breakfast that I was looking for something that Lovegood owned aloud, and several Ravenclaw seniors wandered over to me to assist.

Three minutes of explanation later, and their faces light up, before hastily agreeing to help. I mentally pat myself on the back: I didn't even need to break into the Ravenclaw dorms!

One of the seniors, Cho Chang, returned to me with a small, murky vial labelled 'Take one drop a day' by dinner. I thanked her sincerely, and she nodded back to me with a smile. By my estimates, there's about 100 millilitres in this thing: more than enough for my purposes.

The next step was finishing my new spell. This one's based upon the arcane properties of Glitter.

Glitter follows several rules. These rules are pretty much concrete.

1: Glitter ignores the laws of conservation of mass.

2: Whenever you look away, whenever you look back there will be more glitter than there was before

3: Glitter gets on goddamn everything

4: The more glitter applied to the object, the less willing a living person is willing to associate with said object.

Thus, my new spell conjures a massive amount of sticky, cursed glitter. Cursed, as in it is almost impossible to remove, sticks to anything, and shimmers even in low light. I even managed to alter it to replace any ink applied to the object with even more glitter.

It's absolutely **horrifying**. I almost pity the book, for what I'm about to do to it.

I'm trying to come up with variants I could use in combat as I write. This has so much potential.

I make my move tomorrow.

* * *

Perfect.

Ginny is asleep, with her diary in her arms.

With minimal effort, I was able to pry it out of her grasp, and apply the entirety of Lovegood's medicine to the pages (A thin coat for a few pages, and a thick coat for the inner and outer covers), and do horrible, unspeakable things to the cover with glitter.

Snickering, I put the now-defiled diary back in its previous position. Nothing short of an arcane cleansing ritual will be able to get that glitter off. I might've put a little bit too much mojo into it, however, because my head's a bit lighter than it should be.

I've got a couple of things I need to do before I can call it a night, however.

I think I'll go for a quick walk around the castle.


	7. (Y1, P6, O1) Ripples In Motion

_This is actually the second part I've posted, so if you haven't read Y1,P6, go and do so now._

 _I mean, it's not mandatory, but it'd be nice to get context for what exactly caused this mess._

* * *

Harry Potter was used to being in many strange situations.

All his life had been a series of coincidences, you see.

First, he had been lied to about his parents by his abusive Aunt and Uncle, then he had been not-quite-abducted by quite possibly the largest man he had ever seen; due to the fact that he was actually a wizard. Last year, he had accidentally killed his possessed professor, after having run a gauntlet involving a gigantic chess set, flying keys, and even a logic puzzle.

But nothing had quite prepared him for this.

Beside Harry, stood his steadfast friend Ronald Weasley, youngest male of the Weasley Family.

They had come down to the Chamber for a reason, of course.

Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, had disappeared, and there was another message on a wall, threatening her doom. Her dorm mate had been unable to confirm her location, as she had unfortunately had a run-in with the monster, and now lay paralysed in the medical wing.

The message, unlike the last two, was in a slightly… different… style than before.

Although it began threatening, it slowly devolved into a psychotic, nearly-incoherent rant, before further devolving into a two-hundred word eulogy on Merlin. When the two had left to meet the twins, Filch had been quietly discussing just flat out replacing the wall the message was written on with magic: an unheard of tactic which would have never seen the light of day otherwise.

It had taken begging to Fred and George to find Ginny's position: apparently the twins had acquired a magical map some time ago, and had been keeping track of Ginny over the last while. It had taken a little bit more effort, but Harry and Ron had managed to find the entrance, without giving anything away to the two.

Still, neither Harry nor Ron were willing to risk the life of Ginny, and had broken into the Chamber unassisted, both deeply hoping that what they were to encounter would be a prank, rather than any true danger. They both briefly considered waking Hermione, but knew that she would be busy studying for her tests.

Both boys hoped that what they were doing would not lead to a terrible mistake.

The Chamber of Secrets was dark, vast, and foreboding. The sound of scurrying vermin, dripping pipes, and the settling of stone echoed through the stale air. Countless stone pillars decorated the room, each entwined with stone snakes, each detailed down to the single scale.

It was also apparently home to a young man, who was on his back, screaming about creatures coming from the walls. The teen's eyes were nearly entirely red, with only a shade's difference between his bloodshot eyes and crimson irises.

Harry had noticed just earlier that the teen in front of them was not entirely solid: reaching out to the fallen boy merely led to the proffered hand passing through. The sight of this caused both Harry and Ron's hearts to drop a little. Neither considered the idea of having died and becoming a ghost in the Chamber a punishment unlike hell itself. To imagine this poor ghost suffering all of these years, alone and isolated...

They were about to proceed further into the Chamber, when the ghost finally shrieked an intelligible sentence. "THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! SLYTHERIN'S MONSTER, KILL THEM ALL!".

After a moment of silence, the deafening grinding of stone filled the air, before a snake the width of a bus slowly meandered past the two Gryffindors, headed directly for the entrance.

The two students looked at each other, before coming to a startling conclusion: if the snake was not stopped now, it could potentially kill everyone in the school!

Together, they did their best to draw the attention of the sixty-foot-long beast, first by way of haphazard Parseltongue, and then by mere hurled insults.

It was only due to the timely intervention of a renegade phoenix, and its magical cargo, were the duo able to slay the beast, its massive maw now divorced from its scaled body. Harry's body still shivered from the aftereffects of the beast's poison, even after it had been neutralised by the tears of the phoenix.

Now both out of breath, Harry and Ron continued past where the ghost had been, which was now occupied by the corpse of the giant snake. The ghost was of course still wailing, but its new position did more than enough to muffle it completely.

Hesitantly, they approached the final gate. As they both took a deep breath, they nodded to one another: no matter what was on the other side, they would save Ginny, or die trying.

With a flourishing motion, they threw the doors aside, before charging into the room ahead.

What they saw in the center chamber brought bile to their throats, and curses to their lips.

In front of them, was absolute, pure, indisputable evil.

A book sat on the ground, as wisps of energy slowly rose from the body of Ginevra Weasley, before shooting towards the book. Bit by bit, it was draining the soul of its victim, its foul presence pervading the very air, essence and mind of the innocent it had attached itself to.

"That's... just not right. It's just not right!" screamed Ron, his eyes threatening to escape the confines of his skull.

The book itself was a garish pink, and sparkled in the dim light. Every surface of the book was coated in glitter.

On the front cover, a massive, hot-pink pink heart took center stage, adorned only with the words "T. M. Riddle's Super Ultra Mega Special Diary", written in black sharpie. Slightly below that, was another line of text in flowing cursive, in a brilliant purple: "A gift from Mommy".

Shaking in horror, Ron barely managed to choke out "It's evil, Harry. We **have** to destroy it. For the good of the world."

Resolve filled Harry's body, as he drew his now-bloody sword to its full height. He approached the abomination against good taste with the determination of an executioner.

The poor book did not deserve to exist like this. No book did. Whatever foul thing had been done to it had rendered it unsavable. He could only destroy it, to save the shame of its owner.

The first slash rent a gouge in the diary. But the book would not die: from its gaping wound, spewed more glitter, a revolting mixture of pink, purple, and lime green. It soaked into the floor, leaving a spot which would stain the tiles of the chamber forever.

Each additional slash only gave a rise in pitch to Ron's shrieking, until it had exceeded all expectations of human range. "It's not working! IT'S NOT WORKING!" he wailed, as the horror continued to exist, against all attempts of the contrary.

However, the flow eventually stopped. Slowly, the bleeding of glitter ground to a halt.

Harry collapsed to a knee, now leaning on the sword, its blade sunk into the cobblestones below. As the sound of shallow breathing echoed through the chamber, both boys could hear a final muffled note of baleful wailing from the spectre, before it mercifully passed on, hopefully to join the afterlife, far away from this dank and isolated chamber.

Not willing to touch the accursed book with his bare hands, Harry once more impaled it, before holding it on the edge of his new sword, as far away from his body as he possibly could. It still occasionally dripped glitter and black ink, dotting the stones with an alternating black and shiny pattern.

It was at this point that Ginny woke up. She rose to her feet, and stretched, before blearily gazing about the chamber, unsure of why she had woken up where she had.

Not like Harry or Ron noticed: They were too busy shaking in fear and horror at what they had just witnessed.

Ginny spent a short while attempting to draw the attention of her traumatised knight in shining armor, before finally turning away in a huff until they were ready to escort her out.

* * *

Miles away, the shade of Voldemort felt at once both a massive surge of relief, shame, and anguish.

It did not like those feelings.


	8. (Y1, P6, O2) Aftermath

Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man.

Least of all for the fact that his plans, despite being foolproof, had quite undershot expectations.

He supposed that he had vastly misjudged the quality of fool that had begun to spread through the Wizarding World like a fungus.

Yes, that was what they were. Muggles, Mudbloods, Half-bloods, Blood-Traitors. A fungus, feasting off of the diseased corpse of the Wizarding World, hastening its decline until wizards, everywhere, choked out their final breaths.

It sickened him.

He had deployed the Diary to Hogwarts as a scheme: if he could not directly act against the filth, than by having a puppet act in his stead would serve instead.

Unfortunately, it seemed, he had chosen less than ideally regarding his puppet.

Here he stood, in the Headmaster's office, in the middle of March, when he would much rather be sitting on the beach of one of his countless properties, drinking expensive liquor and listening to the waves crash against the beach.

He had scarcely believed it when he was called in by Severus Snape. His long-time acquaintance had alerted him that there was something afoot, and had owled him a copy of the... message... scrawled on the wall.

It had taken Lucius several moments to indeed confirm that he was not a victim of a particularly thorough prank.

The diary had activated almost two months earlier than it should have, hastening the final stages by an order of magnitude. The chances of actual success for such an act would be astronomically low, not to mention the potential loss of memories, power, or even shape...

Still, it was likely that the misfired tome would take its host down with it, and was why Lucius now sat in the office, beside a pair of Blood-Traitors. It had been fool's play to convince them to worry of their daughter's safety, and despite the pre-existing hatred the Malfoys held for this _particular_ set of blood traitors, they had quickly seen their own flawed brand of reason, and had acted as expected.

Both Blood-Traitors were currently blubbering to the headmaster, begging him to rescue their daughter. Severus stood to the side, leaning against a wall.

Fools, the both of them.

Their precious daughter, whoever she was, had no chance of survival.

He had nearly convinced the two that if their daughter was not found, a thorough search would need to be undertaken, which would prove to be the ideal time to defraud Dumbledore.

After all, a man of his magnitude would be unable to survive having his dirty laundry aired to the general public, now would he?

And that's when everything went pear-shaped.

A brief knock filled the air, before a smaller, younger redheaded traitor barged into the room, with a look of disappointment, anger, and all-around annoyance plastered against her face.

The two older traitors immediately turned to embrace the younger, showcasing their obvious lack of control.

Still, in a display of control unlike her parents, the young child only sighed, uttered something about how 'Harry' and 'Ron' refused to say anything to her, and that they'd be along shortly.

She then wandered towards the back of the room, found a chair, and sat down, with her head in her hands.

Truly a shame that she was born into such a family: that gesture was distinctly Slytherin.

Next into the fold was a larger, male redhead. His eyes were plastered open, and he continually looked behind himself. So this was the host. Lucius briefly pondered the survival of the puppet, before mentally assigning them all into the same category as cockroaches.

And then came in Potter himself. The supposed 'bane' of his master, the being solely responsible for not only his unemployment, but also...

Although he would never admit it, Malfoy owed a small debt to Potter. By offing his superior, Malfoy was free to extend his influence to his heart's content, with no person able to stand in his way. The Dark Lord had been an excellent accelerator for his plan, but had quickly outgrown being useful. Even worse, had he not fallen, his accursed brand could have spelled his downfall.

But by being defeated, Lucius was free. Entirely free.

At least until he managed to come back. He'd spent many nights laying awake, debating what course of action would lead to the most gain, should his old master return.

So yes, Lucius owed Potter a small debt. However, it was unlikely he'd ever find it called in: only a complete idiot would try and accuse him to fulfil it. After all, Potter hated him; it'd be unthinkable for him to ask for a favor.

Back to the situation at hand.

Potter was carrying a broadsword, a nobleman's one, at that. Nodding towards the blade in appreciation, his gaze wandered to the edge.

Bile rose to Lucius's throat.

He recognized what was impaled upon the sword. At the same time, he did not.

He could feel that it was his former master's diary, emboldened with dark magic.

He could also tell that it was something no sane wizard would ever own.

Sensing the silence in the room, Lucius was incited to act.

"Merlin's Breath: what is that horror?"

Dumbledore, that bastard, turned towards him.

"I believe that this diary is yours, Lucius", he spoke, in his sickening, condescending voice.

And then he handed the disgusting wreck to him.

The book was entirely covered in glitter.

Every pore in Lucius's body shuddered in revulsion as he was confronted by the antithesis of his refined, aristocratic tastes. He had to get rid of it **now**.

"Dobby!" He spoke. It wasn't a scream at all: noblemen do not scream, you see. Either way, his worthless elf appeared before him, immediately followed by him throwing the book at the elf.

The book soared through the air towards the elf, dripping through the air like a particularly cheap firework, leaving spatters of black ink, multicolored dust, and terrible taste in its wake. It collided with the elf with the force of a small missile composed entirely of teenage angst, painting the elf a hideous mixture of rainbow-and-black.

The elf stumbled back from the impact, before raising its hands in the air in victory.

"I IS FREE!" screamed the elf, "MASTER GIVE DOBBY HORRIBLE BOOK!"

Lucius took exactly three seconds to glance towards his ex-elf, now coated in quite possibly the worst paint job he had ever seen.

"Keep him!" he huffed, as he turned tail and left, in the quickest fashion he could muster, without directly appearing to have fled.

* * *

Three minutes, and two burning charms later, everyone, save the professors, had left the headmaster's office.

Exactly three minutes, two seconds later, the air filled with a hideous sound.

The sound of Severus Snape laughing.


	9. (Y1, P7) Good News, Bad News

_Any reviews/critique/flames are welcome._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Finally.

Hey, let's play a game of good news, bad news. Okay?

Good news: Apparently, my heritage protects me against instant death by staring at a basilisk.

Bad news. I still was paralysed.

Good news. The antidote worked.

Bad news. The antidote was even necessary.

Good news. I didn't miss much, because I was aware the whole time.

Bad news. **I WAS AWARE THE WHOLE TIME**.

Anyway, I got ambushed in the corridors by possibly one of the ugliest-looking bus-sized snakes I've ever seen (Although it's not like I've seen very many of them). Unfortunately, I managed to make eye contact, and was treated to a first-class experience of having my body seize up and no longer listen to me.

When they found me the next morning, I was less than pleased by the amount of time that my discoverer (I didn't know who they were, since they were behind me) laughing, rather than dragging my petrified ass out of the hallway where it was causing a disturbance.

Anyway, they ended up dragging me to the medical wing, but not before dropping me a few times, and commenting on how weird it must be to be in the "Cannon Fodder" house.

Honestly, that's going to stick with me for the rest of my time here, isn't it.

They put me down in a bed, facing skywards.

Occasionally, someone would wander into the hospital room, and either insult me, or check on the other students.

Apparently, I had made quite an impression on the school, and a few people now hate me. Nothing new.

And that was my next month.

I'm honestly amazed I'm still sane. I'm not sure whether it's entirely wrong to say that, sometimes, I hate my immunities.

Anyway, I came up with a couple of conclusions during my month of enforced bed-rest.

One: The diary was definitely evil, but I do not regret messing with it.

Two: Being petrified sucks. Like, really, _really_ sucks.

Three: Redo wards again, someone might have dispelled them.

Oh, and at some point, a bunch of regular-injured students were carted into the hospital wing, and judging from the quality of slurs being uttered by said students, they were higher-year, too. Cho, the only one who I could recognise the voice of, continuously murmured about how a 'crazy little bitch' had teeth, and was absolutely evil. Judging how I'm in the hospital, it can't be me.

Huh. Second, Ginny's staring at me like I'm about to bite her.

* * *

Ginny's over in the corner giving me wide eyes, because I'm still scribbling in MY diary, which, while evil, isn't a soul-eating abomination.

It's just a regular abomination.

Yes, I am indeed in my room. As if they'd be able to keep me in the medical wing after that. I split as soon as I could move my body.

So anyway, according to the gossip I overheard while immobile (you wouldn't believe how annoying it is to hear people talk, but not be able to identify who they are!), Ginny snapped, evoked the true power of the evil diary, and then fled into the depths of some dungeon under a washroom to summon a gigantic snake. This apparently happened about two minutes after I left my room, because she was apparently lying in wait for me to leave. I manged to run into said snake, got my ass petrified, and was brushed aside as a 'less-important' case, so I just was put into stasis for a bit until the antidote was done.

According to Ginny, however (Well, mostly from Potter, actually, because Ginny wasn't really in the mood to talk to me about the whole topic), Ginny was possessed by the world's most chinzy evil diary (worth it), got forcibly put into an incomplete soul drain, and was narrowly saved after Potter pulled off the standard 'hero succeeds against all odds' move and killed the diary with giant-snake venom. Oh, and the snake the venom was from.

No clue how he did that.

Note to self, point Potter _AWAY_ from allies.

So Potter rescues his princess and drags her away from the dungeon, to safety.

Actually

* * *

 _Totally worth it._

I got slapped, but it was so, totally, perfectly worth it. If she tries to bring it up later, I'll blame whatever sludge the nurse would have tried to feed me making me loopy.

Apparently, Ginny got offended when I insinuated that she set the whole thing up to be rescued by her prince charming. I even saw her tear up a little bit.

I mean, there's no way that fate wasn't on her side here.

Not only does she have no lingering effects from being in a soul drain, which, almost every time, is fatal even when aborted, but she's gotten completely free from being accused of attacking students, which, despite possession, is still her damn fault. Not to mention that, since I know that the diary was to blame, I don't have a reason to hunt her down either.

She's entirely scott free, had a perfectly good reason to kiss Potter, AND got to attack people while commanding a giant snake.

No idea why she's offended.

Right. So back to my daring escape from the hospital.

Anyway, I sat there for a month, before someone finally got the antidote, and started handing it out. I was sorta afraid that I would be immune to it, and thus would be stuck there until I regrew my nervous system (which'd suck, but I'd probably be able to do it by the end of the school year), but to my luck, it worked fine.

Too bad it tasted horrible.

As soon as they dosed me, I was out the door running.

A month in a bed completely immobilized drove me a bit stir-crazy.

At first, I was running just because I needed to stretch my legs, but later, that changed into running away from the furious nurse, who was screaming at me to return to my bed.

At that point, you wouldn't be even able to get my dead body into that bed. I'd probably end up combusting if I went down. I mean, they'd probably be able to scoop my ashes into a jar and put THAT in a bed, but what'd be the point?

I lost her a half-hour later (damn! That lady is fast! And she didn't even seem to be out of breath. She could probably take up cross-country running.), eventually due to running outside, then, when no one was looking, pulling my wings out and flying into the Gryffindor tower.

It was cheating, yeah, but as I said, I wasn't willing to spend another minute there. Besides, otherwise I'd be on the run forever. I've been chased by hellhounds. Those hellhounds were NOTHING compared to Madame Pomfrey.

I'm so glad I put my wings away before I climbed into the window, though, because Ginny was inside the room.

Needless to say, she reacted accordingly.

I'm glad I dodged whatever spell it was she threw at me, because I didn't feel like explaining away my immunity right then. Instead, I double-checked my things, was happy that my wards weren't removed, and pulled out my diary.

So yeah, after that daring escape, I'm happy to be in my own bed, able to move my own limbs again.

Ginny's sitting in her bed, obviously exhausted, but occasionally I look up, and she's rocking back and forth with her arms around her legs, reassuring herself in a quiet voice.

Huh, maybe not entirely untouched by the whole soul-drain thing.

I'm probably going to need to be a bit nicer to her: even I'm not cold enough to make fun of her for that ordeal.

* * *

There was a break from classes today. Mostly to 'allow the students a short respite.'

I think they were mostly doing it to let the kids who got petrified stretch their legs, catch up to studies, and blubber incoherently.

I mean, I'm probably the only one who was aware the entire time.

At least... I hope. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

Scratch that. I'd find a way to weaponize it, to use on my worst enemy. My bad.

I don't seem to have any real lingering effects from my paralysis. Which is good.

The nurse gave me an evil eye when I passed her in the dining hall, but a cheeky grin, an exaggerated stretch, and the statement 'If I needed more bedrest, you'd have probably been able to catch me.', were enough to diffuse the situation. At least, I thought it did, I could hear the nurse approach her boiling point as I skipped past her. Gotta love professionals and their restrictions. If combat was allowed, I'd probably would have had to defend myself.

I fell on my meal like a starving animal. Which I was. Quite honestly, the only other person who ate nearly as much as I did at our table, was that redheaded guy Potter hangs out with. Ronniekins, yeah.

Classes are winding down, exams are coming up, and it's highly unlikely some other trouble will show up before next year: it takes time to set those things up, and with only one month left to go, I doubt they'll be able to move things in before we leave for the summer.

Speaking of which, Potter's acting a lot different than I'd expect.

Rather than lord over his peers due to his (rather impressive) snake slaying, he is instead laying low, pretending it never happened. I mean, he obviously is still shaken, but I don't understand not taking credit...

Anyway, I don't think I'll be comfortable interacting with them very often, for quite a while. Being near Potter still makes me feel uneasy, and I can't really connect to Ronniekins or Hermione.

I guess Ginny will do.

* * *

Moral of the story: Do **not** steal Luna Lovegood's special medicine.

I finally heard the gossip about what had happened while I was unconscious.

Luna Lovegood, who was having _quite_ a bad day, finally lost it on Cho Chang and co, who previously had been in the habit of stealing her personal things. Apparently, Luna had retaliated with a barrage of curses that were STILL in the process of being identified, and had managed to incapacitate two of the four thieves, before the other two wisely beat feet, and escaped to the safety of the common room.

The whole exchange had taken the excess of twelve seconds.

It's always the quiet ones, isn't it.

The moral came later.

Today, Luna stopped me in the halls. Her eyes, were not her normal eyes. Rather than that sorta-creepy 'stoned-out-of-her-mind' eyes, they blazed with quiet, cold fury. She then proceeded to throw my back into a wall with a spell, and threaten at wandpoint to harm me quite severely if I should ever pull that stunt again.

Now, normally I wouldn't be thrown around like that. But she actually referred to me as a demon, and actually do a decent job at threatening me with a wand. I'm not sure if she knows for certain, but either way, you don't pick fights you can't, or don't want to win.

I had to apologise quite severely, before bringing up that her 'medicine' was required to stop whatever evil spirit was killing Ginny.

That lightened Luna's mood a little bit. She explained that she was one of Ginny's older friends, and that, while stealing her trauma medicine was a low blow, if it helped in the long run, she wouldn't hold it to me personally.

But if I did it again, they'd be cleaning pieces of me off of the ceiling.

With that threat out of the way, I'm going to have to work to get onto her good side: if she's as powerful as I think she is, she'll be quite a useful ally to have in a fight.

Anyway, no major harm to me or the castle, and I've defused a potentially dangerous situation. Everything's looking good.

* * *

Main wand? Check. Slotted into pouch on my left shoulder.

Secondary wand? Check. Will be holding it in my hand the entire time.

Emergency escape rune, keyed through dimensional travel? Check. Slotted onto back of right hand.

Rest of my stuff? Check. I've got a summoning lodestone underneath my belongings chest, which I've keyed to my blood. If things go south, I'll be able to summon my things from home, and then flee the country. I heard that Long Island has a decent training ground, and I'm pretty sure I fit the criteria to get in. Won't quite get the magical training I'm hoping for, but it'll be good for my melee combat, at least.

Now the only question is whether to immediately flee, or to actually go through with this.

Context: the headmaster stopped me in the hallway today. Old guy, grey beard, reeks of magic. Like, Gandalf's slightly-less-skinny cousin levels of magic. I had the urge to ask him if I was going to pass, but bit the comment back. Angering powerful mages never ends well.

Anyway, he pulls me aside, asks how my time as a living statue was, except in his own words.

I said that it was the worst month of my life. First mistake.

He brought up that he had come over to find me to ask about that. He asked if I was free today, to meet with him in his office.

I said I had no plans. Second mistake.

When I asked him what it was about, he said he wanted to talk about my family.

Alarm bells ringing in my head, I fled back to my dorm, and here I am.

I'm headed to his office now. Going to store this diary in my trunk, and be ready for anything.

Here we go.

Let's look at what can possibly happen.

I've been doing my research: Dumbledore is potentially the biggest living figure in the magical world today: There are actually cults devoted to him, if you look hard enough. He's powerful by himself, but not only is he magically skilled: He's gone memetic.

Explanation of magic incoming.

Magic is inborn power, multiplied by belief.

Simple as that.

The more belief in an individual, the more magic they receive.

Usually, this belief comes from the mage themselves.

Two of the most common methods for belief in themselves are Ignorance, and Pride.

The Wizarding world seems to run off of Ignorance. As long as nothing shakes their belief, a wizard has plenty of power to draw off of.

The purebloods seem to bolster this with an excess of Pride, which really explains why purebloods seem to outpace those without magical blood.

The third, and rarest source is Confidence: Massive amount of power in that one, but the easiest to destroy. While Ignorance will work fine until faced with something it cannot deal with, and Pride is exceptional until they make a fatal mistake, Confidence is easily affected by spells. Any sort of fear, hallucination, or even poison are enough to reduce its effectiveness.

The three sources are all interlinked with one another, and it's pretty hard to be completely devoted to one. They tend to sorta even out, after a while.

Dumbledore, from what I can tell, is high off of Confidence, and Pride.

Not even going into Memetic.

Not all belief needs to come from the caster. Some can come from outside sources. And the sources don't even need to be magical. If enough individuals believe in a caster, their power receives a significant boost. Memetic power multiplication is what causes cults and religions to form – after enough belief is bestowed upon a target, it gains a magic of its own. On the other hand, if a caster is disgraced and no longer believed in, the loss of power could serve as a final nail in the coffin for the mage's career.

So, Dumbledore has immense inborn power, augmented by Confidence, Pride, and has the Memetic power of an entire nation.

Does that explain why I'm terrified of him?

Not to mention that he's got a seat in the Justice system, meaning it'd take only a single sentence to have my case brought up before the court, and

well

Wizards don't exactly like my kind.

I wouldn't even get a trial before they would kill me. Creatures like me are a bit too dangerous to lock away

And now I'm walking directly into his lair, because if I don't, I've as good as given myself up.

Worst thing: he's the leader of the 'light'. Yes, he's fully identified himself as a white wizard, defeater of the darkness, protector of the just. In other words, as anti-demon as they get.

Two outcomes from this:

One, he doesn't know what I am, and I get off scott-free, but need to hunker down on my alibi

Two, he knows. After that, there's really nothing I can do.

Why do I find myself in these situations?

I'm stowing my diary now.

It's do or die.

I hope it's do.


	10. (Y1, P7, O1) Observation

_I am a major fan of Manipulative!Dumbledore, but even then, I don't think he's actively malicious. He's merely an old man, who believes himself to be the best choice to decide on how people act. Usually, he's right, but there's areas he's not exactly best to decide on._

 _As for the obvious changes in characters: I want to try and spin the story so everyone is a shade of grey: there is no absolute evil (Besides maybe Voldemort), and there is no absolute good. After all, if a Demon is one of the "good" guys, then there has to be balance somewhere._

* * *

It wasn't the first time that Dumbledore had dealt with a half-breed before, of course. In fact, he had employed two of them in the past couple of years.

It was just his first time dealing with one of this particular nature.

From his observations over the school year, young Miss Cain had showcased remarkable restraint, having chosen to hold herself back, for fear of alienating her peers, and/or drawing attention to herself. But still, traces of her true power bled through, more than enough for the venerable Headmaster to put the pieces together.

It had been quite a shock to realize that a half-demon had snuck into the school, and an even greater shock to understand that she had made it in through entirely legitimate channels.

Looking back, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile. Despite the troublemakers that Miss Cain's parents were, she herself had gone an entire year without destroying anything particularly important. Unfortunately, her time in the hospital wing mirrored her parents'.

Still, this would be a delicate procedure.

As the Headmaster of Hogwarts, it was his sworn duty to direct students on the path to darkness towards the path to light, and to teach students self-control. He had also found that he served an additional purpose as a figurehead of hope, a bar of magical strength to strive towards.

He twirled his wand in his hand. A portion of that power came from the wand: it had taken severe effort, but after his fight, he had convinced Grindewald, a long-time friend, to retire after having defeated him in single combat. Although a majority of Wizarding Society believed Grindewald to be dead or imprisoned, the truth was that the ex-Dark-Lord was now residing in the tropics, enjoying a life of freedom for the first time in his life, under a different name. He wasn't armed, of course, as the wager for the duel had been the use of his wand, or of any other.

In fact, he had received a letter earlier today, detailing the beautiful beaches and cuisine.

But back to the subject at hand.

This young girl held tremendous power, and while it'd be nearly impossible to truly drive her off of the path to darkness, it would be entirely doable to encourage her to assist, rather than to destroy.

The hardest part would obviously be to gain her trust.

Dumbledore could see the obvious fear in the girl's eyes when he asked for her presence, and could see why – she feared discovery, followed by prosecution. Yet, she did not know about the similar assistance he had offered another one of his students with a similar problem, one Remus Lupin.

As she was obviously not a danger, there was no need for such drastic action as she feared.

A knock on the door signified her arrival.

"Good afternoon, Miss Cain. Please have a seat."

A single, paranoid glance, followed by Miss Cain stiffly walking towards the chair, and sitting down.

"Would you like a lemon drop?"

She glanced towards the candy, and stared at it for a moment.

"No thank you, Headmaster."

Inwardly, Dumbledore sighed. Why did no student ever accept his lemon drops? It'd prove difficult to get this one to open up to him.

"As you know, I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and it is my job to provide assistance, or advice to students who need it." he began.

Miss Cain did not move, having instead turned her eyes to the ground below.

"Although the Heads of House are to act as primary advisers, I've found that several students have issues speaking to them. However, some feel more at ease talking to me, instead."

Miss Cain spoke. "Thank you Headmaster, but no help is needed." It was slightly bitter, with undertones of fear.

Perhaps a bit of bait was in order? "Next year, our Defense Against Dark Arts professor will be someone you will be able to relate with, quite closely."

Her eyes widened for a moment, before regaining control. "Oh?" she inquired.

With that seed planted, Dumbledore continued. "Are you certain that you have nothing you wish to discuss?"

"No, Headmaster. Thank you, Headmaster."

Miss Cain rose to her feet, and turned towards the door.

"You remind me of your parents, Miss Cain. Although, I can say for a fact that, compared to them, you have committed significantly less mischief than our custodian feared."

She slowly turned back around, her foot caught in mid-step.

"Oh? I'm unaware that you knew them." she spoke, attempting to diffuse the situation.

It was less-than-common knowledge that Mrs and Mr Cain had experienced an interesting time during their years at Hogwarts. Mr Cain, then Solomon, was sorted into Slytherin, whereas Mrs Cain was placed into Gryffindor. The two were quickly deemed to be destined to wed each other, assuming that they did not kill each other first. Even less common knowledge was that, while Mr Cain had graduated, Mrs Cain had disappeared into the aether during her fifth year.

"I assume that your mother found an alternate route to her education?" he spoke, keeping his voice even.

"Uh... yeah" she said, her black eyes slowly inching left and right. Likely checking that her stories had not conflicted.

"Oh, and by the way, what do you think of our current Defense professor?" Dumbledore queried. It was obvious he was making his student extremely uncomfortable, and a joke would lighten the mood.

She snorted, breaking into a smile for the first time in the meeting.

"He has no idea what he is doing, but is a brilliant writer. I'd say he's a terrible professor, but if he can inspire the masses, more power to him. Now, if you don't mind me, I need to make sure my project in my dorm hasn't uhhh... exploded yet."

And then she turned and fled.

Dumbledore massaged his temples slowly. The meeting hadn't gone according to plan, but at least he had not entirely alienated his student. And if the young Miss Cain was anything like her parents, it'd be entirely likely that her dorm could indeed explode.

Perhaps a bit of manoeuvring behind the scenes was in order? Enough to help her, but not enough to reveal his hand in the assistance.

Yes, that would be ideal.

His thoughts were interrupted by another knock on the door, before another student entered the office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Davis. Please have a seat."

After all, his duty as Headmaster was to watch over _all_ of his students.


	11. (Y1, P8) Friends

_Thus ends year 1. It's been an interesting experiment, and I've found that I like it. As always, read and review if it suits your fancy._

* * *

 **Through A Half-Breed's Eyes**

Okay

Okay.

Damn.

Well, I'm still alive.

My heart's pounding, I'm barely breathing, and I'm actually flickering between mage sight and regular vision.

Plus side! I'm not dead.

Not so plus side. I'm not sure that Dumbledore doesn't know what I am.

His ominous statement of bringing in a professor I can relate with is just that: extremely ominous. What is he going to bring in? Some high cultist of some kind? A demon?

Maybe a dark wizard of some kind. That'd make more sense. I'd not trust any of the others with children.

So! I'm back from the lair of the vaunted Lord of the Light. And I'm not dead.

I'm not going to sleep well for a while. That's for sure.

Void take me... I seriously thought he was going to pull a wand out on me, and just straight up kill me where I stood.

He either knows nothing; knows everything, but is lying in wait; or is planning on leaving me be until I do something unforgivable.

On the plus side, Ginny's also curled up into a ball, although I can say with absolute certainty that she's balled herself up tighter than I have.

It's really sad that I'm proud about that.

Exams were about as expected. My grades were sorta schizophrenic, because I really didn't give a damn about a few of the courses. Notably, Herbology, I did reasonably well, mostly due to just ignoring the harm certain plants could do, and pretending that I counteracted them. It's sort of like passing a boating course by jumping into the water and dragging the boat to the end.

History of Magic, I didn't even hand in the exam. Or look at it.

Or show up for it.

That might bite me on the ass later, but I don't really care. Hold me back, whatever.

Transfiguration and Charms were both okay, but not great: I'm good at those sort of things, but theory wise, I'm sorta sketchy.

Potions, I passed quite handily. You don't mess around with poisons, bombs, and healing salves.

Defense, on the other hand, was mostly just a hand-written test, wherein we were given a scenario, and asked how to react. My scenario was 'Confronted by Vampire'. My response was the standard 'Stake, Salt, Burn, Gloat.'

In those exact four words.

I'm quite happy to say I got full marks for it.

Ginny did well too: slightly better in the magical aptitude portions (Which is depressing), horrifyingly bad at potions (seriously, the teacher's an ass, but who wouldn't be?), and okay at the rest.

And now it's time to head home for the summer.

* * *

Eugh, on the train again. I managed to sit down with Ginny and Luna this time, so I wasn't entirely alone.

Luna was back to being weird. Her father must have smuggled her more medicine from home. However, her weirdness is toned down, compared to before. Perhaps since I know the real her, there's less need for her to hide? She's still reading, making strange observations, and refers to me as a 'Fel' (which is technically what I am, although I've not really heard that descriptor very often), but her eyes aren't as far away as before.

I really, really want to put a fully trained Luna up against Potter, just to see how much of the surrounding countryside would remain standing afterwards.

Ginny's finally recovered enough to be smiling and laughing with Luna's occasional statements. I mean, a few of the things she's remarking on aren't really that funny. Conspiracies, while unlikely, tend to be true more often than not.

Do I keep writing in this book over the summer?

Probably not. This is for my time at Hogwarts. I've got other books to write in for my summers.

Oh hey, Ginny's brought in some food from one of the carts. I'm gonna grab one of the boxes.

It's in the shape of a frog. Huh. And it's animate! I managed to catch it mid air, which is easier than expected, because it has a magic spark.

It smells pretty bad, but Wizarding candy is supposed to be weird.

Luna's trying to warn me off, so it's probably joke candy.

I wonder what it tastes like.

Huh, not bad. Sweet, a bit bitter. A little creamy?

Oh. Shit. So that's what Luna meant.

* * *

First things first, I am so glad that I got my diary away, before I painted the bottom of the compartment.

Chocolate.

Yup, I forgot about the demonic chocolate intolerance. Even worse, I...

Well, Ginny's back to being shell-shocked. Luna's looking at me like I've done something hilarious.

I managed to avoid getting anything on either me, nor Ginny, which is a definite plus.

Thank the void for cleaning charms.

So, the frogs are a definite no-go.

Unless I need an excuse to escape something. Actually...

* * *

I just made a grab for another Chocolate frog box. Ginny's screaming at me hysterically, and Luna's giving me a look like the cat that caught the canary.

Apparently stating that the chocolate was for 'emergency use only' was enough to calm Ginny down. Still, her hair's a bit frazzled, and the scent of yuck is still hanging in the air.

We're moving our things to another compartment.

* * *

I made another grab for the candy when Ginny wasn't looking.

The Jelly Beans are okay. The beans all taste sorta different, but they all have this similar undertone... and it's not like the flavors are very distinct. Not my favorite thing.

Now the green lollipop? That's something that's great. It tastes a bit weird, a bit like blood, a bit like that time I got struck by lightning, but other than that, it's probably the best thing in the pile. It's kinda tangy, bitter, and smooth. Almost like a lemon, actually, except more.

Ginny is once again looking at me like I'm crazy.

Seriously, I'm not suspicious at all when designing spells, but when eating candy, I've got a neon sign over my head?

Addled, that one is.

The station's coming up, so I think I should get off.

* * *

My first year's… been definitely different, that's for sure.

Jury's still out on whether it's different-good or different-bad.

All I know is I have a HELL of a lot of prep to do before I consider myself ready for the next.

Potentially dangerous old men, random monster attacks…

When I was told that there was a war brewing, I didn't believe it.

But now, I do.

Let's hope next time isn't quite as much of a disaster.

Just kidding.


	12. (Y2, P1) Fiendish Encounter

_Welcome to Year Two of TAHBE._

 _This is probably the last book where the plot is still (mostly) intact._

 _Amusingly enough, I was originally torn between making this story a humor piece, or a mystery/horror piece,_

 _and I eventually decided by Y1,P3._

 _As always, reviews are always appreciated._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Well, this summer was certainly eventful.

Quick summary:

Dad's somehow managed to sneak his way onto the 'dark creature disposal' squad, and due to his credentials, he's now a senior member. That should give me a decent safety net, should everything go to hell.

Anyway

We ended up hunting down some small cult in Russia. Nothing major, just some idiots with too much free time, and not enough control. They were pretty close to actually managing to summon something, but we managed to sabotage their operation quite well.

And the spells I was working on got a little bit of improvement and advice as well: I can say for a fact that my steam spell is now combat-ready.

As for the glitter charm, Dad couldn't stop laughing at me: apparently it is both 'so, indescribably me', as well as 'potentially the most debilitating non-harmful curse he's ever seen'.

And then he helped me make it harder to dispel. And spread to clothing.

So yes, now it's able to be cast as a curse.

I think I'll keep that particular variant close to my vest, however.

One second, I recognise that magical signature.

* * *

Man, Ginny's angry about something. Oh well. Maybe she'll calm down by the time we arrive.

Anyway, giant doom-snake considered, we've all agreed that last year was worth my time, and I ended up coming back for another year. Hopefully, whatever horrifying thing comes to confront the students this year will stick around long enough for me to get a good shot at it, before Potter manages to do his thing and destroy it.

I really don't like it when people steal my kills.

Regardless, I've got a couple of antivenoms in my pack now, for various poisons, along with a couple of mandrake draughts. Not like I'll personally need it, but if someone close to me gets hit by something similar, at least I'll be able to do something about it.

My

Well

My friends?

* * *

Yes. Friends.

I don't want anything to happen to my friends. I can survive that sort of thing, but they can't.

So it only makes sense I carry the antidote: if something happens to me, they're likely already dead

Dead.

I like being with these two.

I never really had any normal friends my age: I had to train in secret, often not even on this plane. I

My real skin's grey. And that's the least concerning thing about my real shape.

It took me four years to master hiding myself as a human. And I couldn't start that training before I turned six.

I've had no friends.

These two might not

Well, Ginny might not know what I am, and I'm pretty certain Luna does, but I could probably be reading her incorrectly.

They might not have any action towards me, but it does mean a lot to me.

At some point I really should tell them. Not now, not for a couple of years.

But eventually.

So yeah, back to school-based concerns: I've got my good robes with me now.

Yes, it technically is a gown. Yes, it technically is what I'd wear to a fancy occasion. However, it's also the sturdiest thing I own. Black dragonhide, overlaying a dyed weave of fear demon cloaks, Acromantula silk, and imbued with enough magic to act as a class-two magic deflector.

Besides, as long as I don't wear the gloves, headgear, and boots with it, it really does look like a regular dress.

I'll need to hide those.

I

* * *

Fuck.

Well, if this is what Dumbledore meant, when he said he was bringing in for the Defense Professor this year, I'm going to be very disappointed.

 _Fear demons_.

There are fear demons, that just attacked a train full of students.

I mean, I doubt there's any casualties, but seriously.

One of them even managed to get into my cabin, but I managed to convince it to leave with sufficiently applied magic.

And uhh

Well, if I had any hope of being left alone, now that is definitely not happening.

Right, no context yet.

I got on the train, much to my displeasure, made my way to an empty compartment, and sat down. Occasionally, a student or two poked their heads into my compartment, but I managed to ward them off with nothing but a sufficiently-well-done glare.

'course, Luna was one of the ones who poked her head in, and I can't exactly turn her away.

Ginny came in later, like I said earlier.

So, about a minute ago, I get a familiar feeling, followed immediately by a stronger, much more identifiable feeling of hitting the outer boundary of a demon's influence aura.

Ginny and Luna are hit about two seconds later, going white and sober, respectively.

Three seconds later, in pops a demon. It sees me, takes three steps in, and I can practically see Ginny frothing, and Luna's staring at it with absolute horror and despair.

One way or another, the damn thing was leaving.

I reacted instinctively: wandless Flamelash, medium power, overhand motion.

I've always found the spell to be quite pretty: the overlapping, chain-shaped flames crack through shields like they aren't even there, are controllable heat wise, and thus are probably my best non-lethal option. Not to mention, that, unlike most other flame spells, this one's actually partially physical.

Unfortunately, regardless of intent, it doesn't really look like any 'acceptable' spell.

Lash met the lesser demon, and knocked its ass back out of the door, where it glared at me for a couple of seconds. I glared back, and might've let a bit of my aura

(haha, it matches my name. My parents are hilarious.)

slip through, which might've been enough to scare it off.

Either that, or it had a schedule to keep, because it left.

I am so glad I had an alibi.

Ginny and Luna are now both proud members of the 'Knows Aurelia's father is a senior Dark Creature Hunter' club. I blamed the spell on training from Daddy, which while technically correct, technically incriminates my family for teaching a minor Dark Magic. However, I doubt either of them is going to report me for saving them.

Although I'm not really happy with the way that Luna responded: notably, her words were 'Makes sense'.

Oh hey, a teacher just showed up.

* * *

Apparently chocolate is the antidote to the demon's auras. He offered me one, but Ginny slapped it out of my hand, and informed the teacher of my 'intolerance'.

Seriously, that girl will never let me have any fun.

Interestingly enough, I don't recognise this teacher: he looks and smells like something that crawled out of a rummage sale. His signature's a mess: charms, dark magic, and heavy transformation, but it seems deep-rooted. Not regular, that's for sure.

He introduced himself as Professor Lupin, gave me a strange look for not needing chocolate, and then proceeded to head to the next cabin.

I can only assume that the chocolate lady we bought our sweets from last year is doing the same thing on the other side of the train.

Demons.

Are they _completely_ insane?

I mean, yes, I'm technically calling the kettle black here, but I've got EVERYTHING to lose if I misbehave. These things are not only barely-sentient lumps of malice that know very little besides hunger, but also are in a society which is more-or-less in a society without a readily available method of permanently killing them.

If they snap and attack people, they'd be able to kill at least a dozen, and even then, they'd only be able to be driven off, unless the government here has a LOT more shelved firepower than we've identified.

The train ride is FINALLY coming to a close.

Ginny's sticking rather close to me, and I don't really blame her: until she gets to safety, she's clinging to the closest, most powerful mage available, and her beloved isn't exactly nearby to reassure her.

God, I'm going to have to sabotage whatever potions she'll try to slip him, aren't I.

* * *

I paid a little bit more attention at the fest this time: Maybe there was something last year about the snake last year that I missed.

Anyway, the largest man I've ever seen is now an instructor for 'Care of Magical Creatures', Lockhart's off doing more research and can't continue teaching, and he's been replaced by the Lupin guy. Which immediately makes him suspicious. Dumbledore said I'd be able to relate to him.

That means he's either a cultist, a shapeshifter, or a demon.

Speaking of demons, the demons are apparently here to stay, because some idiot decided to post soul eating abominations outside of a magical primary school.

Whichever idiot is responsible

Well, I'm amazed that they've made it as long as they have without choking on their own drool.

Or survived, considering how many times they were likely dropped upon their heads as a baby.

Perhaps they were used as a crash dummy, or a target for debilitating, mind-affecting curses?

I refuse to admit that there potentially could be someone naturally stupid enough to consider this course of action a good idea.

Anyway, demons are here until they catch some criminal. Which is the exact goddamn wrong thing to do. Demons are good at hunting. _Not_ guarding.

Anyway, we ate dinner, headed up to our rooms, and I took up my usual spot on my bed.

Ginny's back to normal now, and we're back up in the dorm. I had to get her to promise not to tell anyone about that specific spell: I cited it being borderline dark magic that I picked up, when my father was hunting some rogue demons. I completely neglected to mention the fact he, as a (mostly) full-blooded human, is more or less entirely incapable of casting said spell.

In fact, I don't think either of my Mothers are able to pull it off either. It's pretty much my spell; Dad doesn't have the bloodline to pull it off, and neither Mother is capable of channelling enough magic to really get it going. There might be a curse that's similar, but I don't think Wizards have quite the control to make a solid fire spell.

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: gossip!

Ginny remains my best source of wizard gossip, further exemplified by the deluge of disjointed information she dumped on me as soon as I asked.

The gist of it is pretty simple, despite the ten minutes it took for Ginny to explain.

One: There's a Dark Wizard by the name of Sirius Black on the run from demons, the government, his family, and **Dumbledore**. I already knew he was at large and was on the run, but I was completely unaware that he had attracted as large of a crowd as he has.

Two: He hasn't been caught.

Therefore, we're dealing with a crazy bastard who's cunning or powerful enough to escape not only a swarm of demons, who don't tire, but also the most powerful wizard I've ever seen.

Jury's still out on the government though. Whichever moron is busy hammering nails with his forehead when he's not stamping paperwork could slow down or entirely prevent them from doing much of anything.

Three: He knows Harry Potter, because of course he does.

Ginny's a bit terrified that Black is planning on hurting Potter, but I managed to reassure her that Potter's probably able to kick his ass. I didn't really bring up what I concluded from what she said, since that'd make her more afraid, not less.

I also mentioned that if he hurt Potter, I'd hold him down while she stabbed him.

Black, that is. Not Potter.

That calmed her down a little bit.

I couldn't help but ask if every weird thing that happens at Hogwarts can be traced to Potter, somehow.

I got a resounding silence, followed by a hazy 'Yes'. It had a bit of a questioning tone, but it's good enough for me.

This is less than ideal: Potter, who I'm less than keen on being involved with, is a walking disaster area, which is where I want to be. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly in a position where I can take full advantage.

I need to come up with a solution.

Final thought for tonight: I wonder what sort of creature Black's going to attack Potter with. A vampire? Gorgon? Nah not another snake.

Demons? I doubt it.

Werewolf? Fat chance.

Maybe an Umbra or something. That'd match his name. Maybe a Clown Umbra? Oh well.


	13. (Y2, P2) Mirror, Mirror

_Whoops. Forgot the foreword._

 _Altla: Thank you, and I hope sincerely that I continue to impress._

 _What Lies Beyond: The dangling words are by design. Usually they mean that something is actively happening._

 _Reviews are always appreciated._

* * *

 **Through A Half-breed's Eyes**

Okay.

Conclusions for today.

One: My fears are either oddly specific, and I've been terrified of seeing myself as a demon, and the teacher as a werewolf in a mirror, or my greatest fear is of a mirror that shows a person's true form.

In that case, the teacher is a werewolf, I'm a demon, and the girl in the far-right of the classroom

I don't actually know her name

Well that girl is actually white-haired, and dyes her hair brown.

Yeah. Probably a truesight mirror then.

Now, I'm not sure if anyone else was able to get a good look at the mirror, and I'm not sure if they're even able to pick up the hints, what with the two closest to it being myself and the teacher

With luck, they'll think my fear is beauty, or being inhuman, or something. Anyone who digs deep will find my Dad's job, and probably will draw the conclusion that I'm terrified of what he fights.

The non-magical borne probably just think I've seen too many movies where everyone is actually a monster. Or I'm afraid of shapeshifters.

Yeah, I don't think anyone's going to be able to follow that clue.

Anyway. Into classes. This year, my schedule is

Day 1: Potions, Herbology, Defense, Hist

I mean free period.

Day 2: Transfiguration, Charms, Astronomy.

They wouldn't let me take any other subjects. I'm sort of sad: with less things to do around here, I'm probably going to end up roaming the halls.

Potions continues to be a careful balancing act of blocking ingredients, and brewing non-poisons. Snape somehow managed to find out that I was carrying around Mandrake draught, Anti-venoms and several healing balms in my bag, and quizzed me on what they were made with, and the usage instructions.

I lost a few points when I failed to explain what exactly the balms were made of, but I was able to correctly recite the proper dosages, application details, and what to use them for, which earned me a nod. He did chew me out when I wasn't able to state their exact expiry dates, but that was a pretty important thing to forget.

I suppose he is the one responsible for brewing anti-antidotes, if someone overdoses.

We still haven't brewed anything of real value yet, but nothing incredibly dangerous yet either.

H

* * *

Where was I. Just got back from History.

Herbology continues to be unimpressive. The plants are slowly getting more dangerous, and I'm actually paying a small amount of attention to what's being taught now.

Though for the life of me, I still can't remember the names of the plants.

Oh well.

And then Defense.

Welcome to the melting pot.

We had double Defense with Ravenclaw.

As a surprise, Professor Lupin pulled a Minor Fear Demon (They call them Boggarts here) out of a wardrobe, and one by one called students up.

The demon, being the asshole that it was, would change into the victim's greatest fear, until it was either dispelled, or Lupin pulled them away.

My whole theory about Wizards having weak hearts is still going strong, by the way: three girls panicked and fainted when confronting their fears.

I didn't really care for a majority of the students.

Luna, who was the first of my little circle of acquaintances to go up, was

Trauma medicine.

It all makes sense now.

The demon shapeshifted into an image of a dead body, which bore more than a little resemblance to Luna herself. I could see Luna begin to hold back tears, but it got worse: the 'body' began to insult her, call her worthless. Told her that it was her fault that the body was dead.

Luna barely managed to counterspell it, but was visibly shaken when she returned to her seat.

I think she caught me mouthing 'It's all right' to her as she passed, but I don't know if she saw me.

Six or seven appearances of dogs, spiders, or monsters later, and Ginny walks up, extremely hesitantly.

The demon pretty much vanished into the air for a second or two, before manifesting as solid black bars surrounding Ginny. A voice echoed from around the room, declaring that Ginny was 'his', and that there would be no escape this time.

It took several counterspells (Ginny didn't know where exactly to aim), but she managed to free herself, before stiffly walking back beside me.

She tried to hug me, but I flinched away.

I really hope she doesn't get the wrong idea. I don't fear her, but

Well, my skin feels different than a human's.

And then it was my turn.

I walk up to the demon, stare at it for a second or two, and it just clicks around. And then it shifts, becoming a seven-foot tall golden mirror. It even took me a minute to realise it as a truesight mirror: I just stood there dumbly for a bit.

Lupin, on the other hand, seemed to be freaking out about his reflection a little bit.

I mean, I definitely freaked out a bit when I realized what exactly I was staring at, but I was able to reassure myself that everyone in the class was either accepting enough, or stupid enough to not really notice/care.

As my fear wasn't quite as crippling as the other two, I managed to dispel it without much issue, then walked back to my seat.

I had to restrain myself from declaring 'See? Easy,' to Ginny.

We've both back in our dorm now.

Although I can hear Ginny talking to herself again

* * *

Oh.

Oh damn.

So

it turns out the voice she was hearing?

That was the voice she heard when she was in that soul drain.

I could have sworn she was just afraid of being trapped.

I feel

well,

I feel like an ass.

* * *

Ginny smiled at me when I apologised. I also took the time to state that I don't really like being touched

technically a lie, but it's believable enough to save me some effort later

and that I have her back.

Mostly because wherever she goes, Potter's likely to be, and it's a disaster area.

At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

But I'm not sure if that's true any more

* * *

Free period now. I've got an empty one between Charms and Astronomy, merely because Astronomy, by definition, cannot occur during the day.

I think two days from now I'll start wandering around the school. Maybe see if I can't sneak into the various dorms.

Maybe even find my dad's old dorm, down in the Slytherin dungeons. Apparently, they put some rather crazy wards on the dorm before Mom died, several which make the dorm impossible to find without being keyed in.

Well, there's another piece of information no one should ever learn: I'm a Gryffindor, borne of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. That mere information could potentially cause a riot.

Anyway

Transfiguration is still a mess for me, but since we're moving away from silver, and into other, miscellaneous things, I'm doing slightly better. I'm actually slightly hesitant at creating anything alive, or even mimicking life: what with first mum coming back from the dead, it just doesn't feel right sending something back to death after bringing it to life through magic.

I can't possibly be the only person with these reservations. I refuse to believe it.

Charms was merely a bit of quick review, followed by several more non-combat spells. We were demonstrated potentially one of the most powerful, amazing and useful spells I've ever seen.

The Summoning charm.

I will learn that charm by the end of the week or die trying.

Seriously, the mere idea of being able to grab things without walking over to them?

Perfect.

Flitwick stated that it was a medium-difficulty spell, and judging how it lacked a real visible complexity, incantation or gesture wise, the problem seems to be magic-power wise.

Astronomy is in three hours, after which there's a mad, five-minute dash to my dorms to avoid the curfew rush.

So what are my priori

 **Dumbledore**.

Goddammit. I just remembered: I need to tread lightly.

Okay, so screw breaking into any of the other common rooms, at least until the heat's off of me.

Priorities at the moment:

1

Find somewhere to test new spells. Preferably, somewhere where wantom destruction won't be noticed.

2

Investigate Professor Lupin

I'm not sure whether he's actually a werewolf, or if he is just afraid of being one. I'll need to poke around.

3:

Come up with more things to do

Seriously. If I don't find at least something reasonably interesting in the halls by the end of the week, I might actually have to start paying a

Okay, I can't actually write that. There is no scenario, between the birth of the universe, to the day the sun turns black that I'd ever give a damn about what that ghost has to say.

I've got about an hour before Astronomy. I think I'll walk around, clear my head.

* * *

God, it's far too late to have classes.

Astronomy sucks. Nothing new.

I didn't even manage to make it to the class on time.

It turns out that one of the hallways is false, and that stepping in the wrong place causes a portion of the floor to go incorporeal.

This then drops you into a slide, which catapults you into the lake.

I learned this first-hand.

Luckily, it wasn't all a waste: I managed to disrupt a pair of students where were busy kissing on the lakeside. Apparently, having a screaming, flailing second-year girl come flying out of what appears to be a solid wall, before hitting the surface of the lake with the force of a cannonball is a mood ruiner. Who woulda thunk it.

I took me twenty minutes to find a place where I could properly dry myself. Eugh.

I'm so glad that it's only the Fall: that lake in the winter must be horrifying.

Anyway, I managed to get to Astronomy later.

It's not like I was that late, but it's the principal of the matter.

About an hour and a half of staring at dots in the sky later, and I'm trudging back up to my dorms.

Did you know that the fish from the Lake can survive up to two hours without water?

Because one of them managed to wiggle itself free from my robe, and flop onto the floor.

I hastily pretended it wasn't mine.

I think someone threw it out the window into the lake. Never really paid it a good glance.

Stupid fish.

I also bumped into Fred and George during my walk back to my dorm.

The two passed me, nearly a blur, alternatively screaming, whooping, and cackling. They proceeded to run to the end of the hall, before jumping into a painting.

Four seconds behind them was the custodian, brandishing his broom like a battleaxe, who also jumped into the painting.

Oh. And his cat too. His cat also jumped into the painting.

No idea how, or even why that is a thing. Oh well.

Welcome to the castle Hogwarts. M.C. Escher, eat your heart out.


	14. (Y2, P3) Picture Imperfect

_I'm planning on going through my old chapters, and making sure that everything is consistent some time this weekend._

 _Expect some small changes in the various chapters. Nothing major, however._

 _Next chapter will be late._

* * *

 **Through a Half-breed's Eyes**

Good god, there's **two** of them.

It turns out, Ginny isn't the only girl obsessed with Potter: I was sneaking around earlier, and found a poster, of all things, in another girl's room.

Speaking of which, these dorms really aren't very well warded.

Even worse, I can only stop whatever cocktails Ginny's trying to feed him. Whoever this other girl is

I should probably scout it out and narrow it down

is too far away for me to interfere with.

I mean, I could lock her in a room with Ginny, and deal with only the survivor, but I actually like having the quiet, moody roommate.

As you can probably guess, I've got Astronomy in an hour, and once again, nothing better to do than poke around.

I've even tried to make conversation.

It went about as well as I expected.

All of the girls here care about how they look

wheras I've always been a 'here and now' sort of girl.

I think after the third or fourth weird look I got when quizzing my fellow students on spells, I decided to wander off. Find something else to do.

Ginny at least pretends to listens to me when I babble on about wards, or (recently) protection rituals.

She hasn't quite asked me to try and protect any of her things yet, but I wouldn't trust me either.

I mean, I could try and sneak into Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw

Slytherin could also work, but if gossip spread, it'd really screw me over

I'm going to have to see if I can talk to anyone, but even then, I don't really have anyone I know outside of Gryffindor besides Luna.

Actually, weren't they saying something about a 'Forbidden Forest' earlier? I might check that out this weekend.

If anything, it should liven things up a bit.

* * *

FORBIDDEN FOREST IS A BAD IDEA

NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.

So! I now know why the forest is forbidden.

It started out fine: I was wandering around, taking in the fresh air, when I bumped into a dog.

A big, black dog with a pretty massive magical signature.

The dog then proceeded to beat feet deeper into the forest.

Now, I'm not stupid, and didn't follow the dog. What instead happened,

was that I got charged by a Unicorn.

Yup. Unicorns, in a forest. Apparently, one smelled me, and did what it usually did to 'Dark Creatures'.

Ever been charged by a Unicorn before? It's a bit like having a mounted horseman charge at you, holding a lance.

With the trees as dense as they were, I wasn't able to get airborne to escape, and thus I was forced to just run from the charging horse.

Right into a giant spider nest.

Long story short, I ended up running all the way back to the Groundskeeper's cottage, where he was apparently teaching a group of students about Hippogriffs.

I might've interrupted his class, when I vaulted over a fence, leading the Unicorn to catch its neck in between the rails, screaming bloody murder.

I was screaming. Not the unicorn. The unicorn was making more of an angry whinnying noise, as its ears flicked around menacingly. I think it was also gnashing its teeth, but I didn't get a good look at it.

I think I saw the entire class, AND the Hippogriff turn to watch me as I sprinted to the castle's entrance.

I'm really hoping none of them saw my face.

* * *

Well, it seems hope isn't enough.

There's a rumor going around now, that the

Well.

It's known that Unicorns like young, virgin females.

And apparently, they don't like me.

Meet my new nickname.

'Slut'.

Because apparently, a second-year girl is physically capable of being a slut.

Or even knowing what that means. I mean, I do know what it means, I haven't lived under a rock all of my life.

God. What a waste of time.

Any chance at being able to talk to the other girls in my year has gone down the drain.

Ginny gave me a weird, slightly disgusted look, before I asked her if she had even ever seen me with a boy, let alone attempted to date one.

 _Worst Year **Ever**_.

* * *

There are exactly six-hundred, ninety four scratches on the wall closest to my bed.

Normally, I wouldn't need to know these things.

But unfortunately, save for the occasional demon patrols swooping around, there's been absolutely jack-shit happening that's worth leaving my dorm over.

No monster attacks,

No evil wizards,

Hell, the most dangerous thing the supposed werewolf's done is disappear on full moons.

I haven't even tried to talk to him yet. There's really nothing to ask.

Maybe I'll start doing that, just to make him uncomfortable, or something.

Even worse, some of the guys in Gryffindor are giving me weird looks, as if I'm some _merchandise_ to oogle.

I really, really hope something terrible happens soon, to take this heat off of me.

Not like any of them are my type anyway.

Hell, the closest one to my type is Potter, but he's got not one, but **two** psychotic stalkers pining for him.

The name of the other one is Romilda Vane, by the way. Luckily, she's more of the 'up in your face' sort of stalker than the 'poison you' stalker. I don't think she has much chance at doing anything.

Although I still need to keep her away from Ginny. Wouldn't want her to get herself expelled for engaging in a duel.

Maybe I should challenge someone to a duel. They do that around here, right?

I can just go up and challenge some poor bastard to a duel?

No?

Probably not.

My thoughts are a complete mess.

I need to get out of here.

* * *

Ginny doesn't really have any advice for fixing boredom.

She did say that she had an enchanted Quiddich practice ball she could throw around if it really got bad.

Hell, anything is good.

* * *

Once again, Ginny's reflexes prove to be quite good. I was making catches, and so was she.

I think we went back-and-forth for twenty minutes, before I had to head out to Astronomy.

Actually, from the Astronomy tower, I can plainly see the lake below…

I wonder if I could hit it if I jumped off of the tower.

Maybe if things get _really_ boring.

* * *

I found a shape-shifter today.

One of the seventh-year Hufflepuff girls is actually a shape-shifter. I know this, because I spent two hours following her around.

I think she tried to change her appearance four or five times, but I kept cutting her off in the hallways, and made sure to always resume whatever conversation she was fleeing from.

Either she's going to be really paranoid, or

God, is this what it's come down to? Me following random people around, hoping for something interesting to happen?

Screw it. I'm my Mothers' child. If trouble doesn't find me, I'll just have to go looking for it.

Anyway. After I finished stalking the shape-shifter, I headed out.

I'm quite happy to say that she was still looking around cautiously at dinner that night.

The stupid rumor's still going strong, by the way.

* * *

What type of boys are my type…

Ron Weasley is a definite no-go.

Potter's spoken for

That Longbottom kid

Neville, is not really my type: too shy, not fun enough.

And I'm pretty sure Dean and Sean are gay.

I don't think I'd ever find myself going for a Ravenclaw.

As for the Hufflepuffs, I don't really know enough about them.

Hell, the only boys I know outside of Gryffindor is

Actually, Malfoy wouldn't be bad, if he managed to pull his head out of his ass, sober up a bit, and learned to walk on his own feet.

Although that'd probably take someone murdering his entire family to force into his skull.

Should I do that?

Nah. Not yet at least.

Oh. I

I did indeed just write an entire entry upon boy preferences.

Screw it, gonna mess with the defense instructor next.


	15. (Y2, P3, O1) Similarities

The students slowly filtered out of the classroom through engraved mahogany doors, as Remus Lupin slowly sorted his ever-growing pile of papers to mark.

He couldn't help but sigh: as rewarding as being a teacher was, it was far from the relatively-idle life he had been leading before.

As the last remnants of his fifth-year Hufflepuff class vacated the premises, he finally allowed himself to relax a small amount.

A slight smirk danced across his face.

It hadn't been easy, holding down the job, as disadvantaged as he was. It had been a titanic effort, keeping his mind and priorities straight, even as the endless cycle of the waxing of the moon above wreaked merry hell upon his scheduling. It was only due to the perhaps less-than-willing substitution of his colleague Snape, that he his secret had not yet been revealed.

But regardless of the moon above, he still had essays to mark.

It was probably for the best that he had a small lull in his classes, at least for the next few hours: more than enough to catch up.

He reached down into the pile, retrieving an essay of moderate length, penned in a hasty, shoddily done script. But even as he read through, his mind was occupied on other matters.

Harry, despite the absence of his family, had grown to become a boy which, he was certain, would be the pride and joy of both James, and Lily.

His only regret was that he could not personally work up the nerve to tell Harry directly.

Lupin blamed his long habit of isolation for that. Being as cautious as he had become did not exactly lead to remaining outgoing.

There was a brief knock on the door.

Raising one eyebrow, the werewolf slowly lowered the paper to the desk, before intoning "Come in!"

In walked Miss Cain, one of his second-year Gryffindor students. As she slowly stepped inside, Remus could begin to see the mischievous grin plastered across her face.

Remus shuddered a small amount. That face, was one he had seen on James and Ser -

His face hastily contorted into a frown.

He had seen that face on James, and on _Black_ , before the latter had gone dark and betrayed them all.

Shaking the dark memories from his head, he turned back towards his student.

"Hello, Miss Cain, is there something I can do for you?"

He watched the girl roll her arms once slowly, as if working out a knot in her shoulders, her smirk not once leaving her face.

"Hello, Professor Lupin. How are you today?" she spoke.

"I'm fine." he replied, tone even.

To be completely frank, he was more or less in as good a shape as he'd ever be. The last full moon had been a week ago, allowing him plenty of time to recover from the worst of his... affliction.

"Are you busy right now? The Headmaster told me to speak to you." she continued, with a slight tinge in her voice.

Remus' eyebrows rose slightly. The Headmaster was asking? He couldn't fathom the reason.

"No, not at all. I'm off right now. Besides, if the Headmaster says that it is important, who am I to argue?" he replied. Despite her appearance earlier, perhaps this wasn't merely a prank? Even James, on one of his more... daring days, wouldn't drop the name of the Headmaster during a prank.

He shook his head. He had spent far too much time reminiscing about the past when dealing with Harry this week: he was beginning to see echoes of his old friends in everyone he met.

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed, slapping the desk with both hands. "Anyway, the Headmaster said I should talk to you about some things. He wasn't very specific, but I think I know what he meant."

He slowly nodded once. What exactly had the Headmaster told this girl?

"Anyway, so I think this really goes back to the first class, what with the mirror." she spoke, with an undertone of amusement.

His eyes widened slightly. The mirror! He wasn't entirely sure what exactly it was, but it had shown him as a werewolf, and her as a...

"Anyway, I wanted to ask you, are silver potions knives important for brewing, or can you use alternative tools?" she continued, cutting off his thoughts.

Alarm bells were going off in Remus' head as he mentally backpedaled.

"I'm pretty sure it's the properties of purity that silver has that makes them useful for potions, but wouldn't a decent enough crystal knife do the same thing?" the voice continued, ignoring his discomfort.

Finally, Remus found his voice.

"Uhm... shouldn't you be asking Professor Snape, for advice regarding potions?"

She tipped her head slightly, before pulling her lips back, revealing slightly pointier teeth than he had expected.

"Well, Dumbledore did say that I'd be able to relate to you, if that means anything. Honestly, he was sorta vague."

Relate. The mirror. Was she also a werewolf? Or perhaps something else?

A single probing question. "And I assume that you are also, doing your best to avoid having... certain facts come to light?" he offered.

She looked around the classroom, perhaps searching for observers. He was familiar with that motion: he himself had _lived_ that motion.

"In more ways that one, yes." she replied, voice quieter than before.

"Go on?" he was hanging onto every word.

"Well... My family's a little bit more... Dark than the average Gryffindor." she continued.

A long breath out. He had misread the situation. She was asking, not as a Dark Creature like him, but rather as a concerned student with a little more Dark knowledge that socially acceptable.

"Oh. Well, I assume it's nothing like the Unforgivable Curses, right?" he replied, slightly deflated.

Her eyes rolled slightly. "The Unforgivables? What sort of idiot brands a certain type of spells Unforgivable? Is Necromancy really that frowned upon over here?"

Necromancy?

"I... don't quite think I understand."

He could see her flinch slightly. "Right. Uhm. Basically, I know a couple of spells that can really mess a person up. They're also rather good at dealing with Dark Creatures. My dad taught me them; he's on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Didn't want me entirely unprotected."

Remus could feel his pulse in his ears. This was who he had nearly revealed himself to? He could barely keep his face calm. Did she suspect anything?

"Anyway, " a slight shrug, "I managed to end up repelling a couple of Dementors earlier this year with a rather obscure curse. Am I going to get into trouble if I need to do it again?"

With a slightly higher voice than usual, Remus spoke, "I can't know for sure until I see it in action. Do you think you can demonstrate it?"

The damnable smile still remained. "I think I can do that. Do you have a target?"

A quick conjuration resulted in a small target made of stone sitting the dead center of the room.

"So... what does this spell look like?" he prodded. Perhaps it was a modified Patronus charm?

"Well, it looks a little bit like this..."

In a blink Miss Cain's wand was out, and a whip of solid flames collided with the stone, filling the air with an acrid stench of brimstone, and the sound of shattering.

Blinking, Remus looked between the smiling student before him, and the demolished stone in front of her.

Shaking his head clear once more, he spoke, "Well... that's certainly unique. And it works against Dementors?"

"You'd be amazed. They're an absolute menace to hit with any real sort of spell, but physical force is surprisingly effective." Miss Cain chirped, as she twirled her wand between her fingers.

Fingers raised to his temples, Remus ran the math through his head.

"As long as you _never_ even _attempt_ to cast this on students, I can imagine this particular spell being more or less fine. It doesn't really resemble anything that dark, so unless someone is able to directly identify it, you should be fine."

Sighing in relief, Miss Cain pocketed her wand once more. "Thank you, Professor. That makes things much easier, in case of another attack."

Nodding his head, he watched Miss Cain turn to leave. He lifted his last paper into the air.

"Oh, and sir?"

His eyes raised towards her, still situated in the doorway.

"What do you use to treat rashes caused by direct contact with silver?"

"Olive oil works fine." he replied dazedly.

"Thank you!" she answered, and exited the room quickly.

Remus glanced towards the empty doorway, and then back towards the paper in his hands.

Only to lower the paper again to his desk, and then his face into his cupped hands.


	16. (Y2, P4) Quidditch

_Welcome to the deep end._

* * *

 **Through a Half Breed's Eyes**

Well!

That definitely accomplished many things.

First, and probably most important: yes, the teacher is indeed a werewolf.

I mean, he pretty much flat-out told me.

Not like I'm going to do anything about it though.

I also managed to squeak out an Alibi for my spell, mess with his mind severely, and figure out how to stop this stupid goddamn rash I keep picking up in potions.

A productive day, to say the least.

So much better than actually showing up for History.

I think I'm going to make one more loop around the castle

Watching out for bus-snakes, of course

And then maybe have a rest.

Ginny's been going on about how there's an upcoming Quidditch match she wants me to see.

Something about how her crush has been dominating the leaderboards as a star player.

Now, normally I wouldn't be bothered to do so, but with this year being what it is, I'll humor her this time.

It's Tuesday now, and the match is on Thursday.

As for spell creation, what with the steam spell being done, I really don't have any idea what to work on next.

And well

Designing spells without a clear goal in mind leads to all sorts of messy disasters.

Fun spells, though.

The demons are acting weird, too. There were a couple dozen that were gathering on the outer edges of the grounds, but they quickly broke up in a couple of minutes. I think they were hunting some sort of animal, or something, and I don't quite feel like going out into their territory to check.

Something weird happened today.

I was in my room, and decided to try and scan the walls. See if I could identify spells being cast through them.

Anyway, turns out the girl's dorms are literally back-to-back with the boys dorms.

Aside from detecting a contraceptive charm (which I _really_ didn't need to know about), a couple of minor glamors, and quite possible the _worst_ attempt at transfiguration I've ever seen, I also picked up a signature.

It wasn't exactly the same as McGonagall, but extremely similar: way too developed to be a student. But even then, it wasn't the same

It was closer to that dog I bumped into the forest. Not identical but

Oh.

Well. Next time I bump into that dog, incapacitate first, ask questions later.

Uhm

God. I'm an idiot. Of course it wasn't a normal dog!

I should've just hit the damn thing, then dragged it back into the castle to either dissect or interrogate.

* * *

 _Wlel_

 _Gnn s i_

 _do ukin mn i_

* * *

 _Thank you._

Ginny is currently sitting on my bed with me, still losing her goddamn mind.

I have to say, if what happened is a standard thing for Quidditch, then I might need to pay more attention to the sport.

Anyway.

Demons.

That really sums it up.

So, here's what I saw, down there.

Standard sport setup: everyone gets on a stand, and begins cheering for one team, badmouthing the other.

Except it was Gryffindor vs Survivors, so there wasn't really much badmouthing going on.

Game started strong: Potter, who was apparently a star player for the team, did his part by being absolutely useless, floating up in the air for about a minute and a half half like a confused imp, occasionally looking around as if searching for his marbles.

The other team had a player doing the same thing.

Anyway, and then the game began.

The remaining 6 players on each team exploded into action, with three-a-side gathering smaller, enchanted balls, each similar to the ones Ginny and I had thrown between each other a couple of days ago.

A few of the balls were then tossed into metal hoops each occasionally blocked by a fourth player, which was then punctuated by frantic screaming of a die-hard fanatic.

As sad as I am to say it, but he's probably _less_ biased than the average mortal sports announcer.

Finally, the last two players per team carried around moderately-sized clubs, and were responsible for launching glorified hand-boulders at the other players. Boulders made of metal.

I have to admit, the whole whack-metal-balls-into-people thing seems fun: I might even get into it, if the team opens up a spot in the future.

So six players continued to fly around, playing aerial tag and stealing balls from one another, while Potter and his opponent continued to patrol around aimlessly. Meanwhile the other four guys did their best to murder one another.

And then came the fog.

Although I'd like to lie and say I know where the fog came from, I'd be lying.

Goddamn fog came from everywhere.

Grey, thick, choking fog just rolled in from every side at once, cutting visibility to nothing. I reflexively swapped to mage sight, and did my best to try and keep track of Potter.

It was pretty difficult, truth be told. It works a lot better when the targets being tracked are confined to only two dimensions of movement.

And then came the demons.

It wasn't really a proper horde: only about twelve or so.

Yes, twelve.

Twelve demons roll up to the stands, like they've been invited to some horrifying party.

Now, here's the thing about these lesser fear demons: there's a reason they're known as 'lesser'.

Now, the big difference between lesser, and greater demons?

The lesser demons can't fly.

This is entirely divorced by how powerful their auras are.

So, we've got a dozen of the bastards sitting in the center of the stadium, staring skywards at Potter, because **of course they are**.

I'm one of the few people able to see through the damn fog, meanwhile Potter, who's flying just barely out of their spheres of influence, is starting to slow down, as if he's searching for something.

His opponent remained high, however.

Ginny's swearing up a storm the entire time, fretting about Potter's safety.

And then he dipped into the sphere.

I could see him flinch as he brushed the border, but the angle he had his broom at prevented him from steering clear.

He flew, directly into the overlapping influence of the demons.

He lasted for about seven seconds, before I could see him lose his grip,

And then begin falling twenty feet towards the ground.

I was up in an instant.

Ginny would have killed me if I let him die.

But I didn't need to do anything.

One of the teachers summoned a silver familiar, which chased the demons away, before casting a quick spell to prevent Potter's messy meeting with the ground.

And then the fog cleared, revealing an empty pitch, several dancing silver shapes,

And an unconscious Potter.

He was immediately lifted up and run to the hospital wing, but that wasn't the end of the troubles.

Because there was still one more dementor nearby.

As Ginny catapulted herself up into a standing position, determined to figure out what was wrong with Potter, I followed her.

We sprinted back to the castle

Only to bump into the last dementor.

* * *

She's crying now.

She's crying, and I have no idea what to do.

I don't know

I don't

I've ne

I can't say everything will be fine.

I can't say it won't happen again.

I can't even say I will protect her.

Because what I did, I doubt I'll be lucky enough to be able to do again.

The demon came up from behind. We were both unaware until it was too close. Too distracted. And this time, it closed to melee.

Ginny was screaming, but I convinced her to run ahead, get to safety. Get help, any help. Said I could slow it. Could stop it, could kill it.

And as soon as she left sight, I turned on it.

The spell knocked it back, but did not stop it.

It was hungry, feral. Uncontrolled. It screamed of hunger, of souls and of flesh.

Of feasting on the innocent, of murder, decay, death.

I should have fled, should have run and hid, I should have taken flight and outflown it

But there are no wards here.

And I couldn't

And so I just kept casting at it.

Over and over.

Seven hits.

Twenty-five casts. I was panicking. Losing hope. Considered revealing.

I wasn't killing it. Hurting it: I was driving it back, and even then barely

It took seven hits, and over two minutes of casting.

And even then, it got too close. It was too fast. It clawed me twice. Shallow, jagged wounds on my arms. Slowed me down. Ruined my aim. Speckled the ground black with my blood.

McGonagall, followed by Ginny barrelled out of the school, cast the silver familiar at it. At us.

And as the familiar came close

 _It burned._

Unlike anything I've felt before

I need a faster method.

I need a spell capable of dealing with those demons faster. One that isn't immediately seen as dark, something I can use on my own.

I don't have my Mothers here. I can't kill these things on my own, not without dropping my glamour

Because those three minutes

I was a sitting duck. I couldn't run. But I couldn't let it win.

As the thing finally fled, I pulled myself to the side, hid my wounds as my nature knitted them back together. McGonagall tried to look me over. I couldn't let her. Couldn't show her.

I ran. Ran into the grounds, still bleeding, still dripping.

Five minutes later, the wounds had finally healed, flesh regained color.

Grey flesh became light once again.

I back stumbled into our dorm ten minutes later, to meet a pale-faced Ginny, once again balled up

She assumed I had died. That I had panicked and fled and been caught by another one

That there are dozens of them, lying in wait

She's terrified of them

That they'll find her

And I'm sca

I don't know how to make this right.

But I know for a fact

The idiot responsible for this

Isn't merely incompetent

If this doesn't change

They will be murderers

* * *

 _A.N: No, I'm not planning on having the entire story be doom and gloom._

 _The problem was that Dementors are involved. Dementors are not funny._

 _Honestly though, I have the urge to re-tag the story as either Humor/Horror or Drama/Humor._


	17. (Y2, P5) Recovery

_I accidentally posted the wrong version of this chapter. New version's in place now._

* * *

 **Through A Half-Breed's Eyes**

I _hate_ being weak.

The Demons were on the outskirts of the school again. Staring. Mocking.

As if they _know_ that I can't do anything to them.

It's infuriating.

Once or twice, I've seen a group of one or two of them watching me, as I went about doing my own thing during my free time: it's starting to unnerve me.

I just really really wish that

I can kill them. I know I can kill them. But is it worth it? If one of those things disappears, and I don't have a concrete alibi, then they'll know.

They'll know, and they'll find out.

And I can't let that happen.

Ginny's been out of it for a couple of days: looking over her shoulders as she walks the grounds, but even then she's stuck to inside the castle. I think she's starting to become paranoid.

Even more often, she's been waking up in the middle of the night.

She has the same classes as me, so I've taken to walking with her during our only 'real' free period.

She hasn't thanked me yet, but if she doesn't, she can repay me later by having my back later when everything invariably goes horribly wrong.

Anyway, Potter's recovered fully, and I've had to bear several horrifyingly long discussions about 'whether or not he'd make it'. I think I dismissed every single one of the conversations the same way.

A low snort.

Any student able to kill a Basilisk in melee combat can handle being near a demon or two. Not like they even touched him.

But yeah, ever since the whole Quidditch fiasco, the lower-year students are starting to be a bit wary around the edges of the grounds too. I think the entire school will be happy to see the wretches go.

* * *

McGonagall stopped us in the hallways earlier. Apparently, the Headmaster wanted to see us.

Now, normally, that'd leave me terrified, but since he was asking for _both_ of us, I assumed that it was merely a check-up, and not some sort of interrogation.

Either way, Ginny was looking hopeful, and I was told that I looked miserable.

The meeting with Dumbledore went reasonably calmly.

A bit of back and forth between Ginny and him, before the topic inevitably turned towards the demon, and then to my 'heroic last stand' against the creature.

The entire time, the Headmaster's pet Phoenix was sitting in my hair, making itself comfortable. And by comfortable, I mean it was lighting a portion of my hair on fire.

Assuming that no one was able to smell burning (or if they did, they'd blame the phoenix), I offered my explanation.

Luckily, my explanation of 'hit it with your strongest spell, until help can arrive' was both entirely true, and a legitimate (if inefficient) strategy. I got a couple of points for Gryffindor (to be added later discreetly, which I appreciated quite a bit), as well as an urging to look into the Patronus charm.

And of course, I didn't recognise the charm.

I had to ask about the charm: what it did, what it took to cast it.

Dammit.

Well, it turns out, that the Patronus charm is more or less just a pretty solid form of anti-demonic magic. It's also incredibly magic-intensive, with trained Wizards being unable to sustain the spell for longer than a minute. Add in the fact that the government doesn't like people being able to defend against their 'enforcers', and it's a relatively obscure spell too.

As it's magic that I have less-than-zero compatibility with, I have pretty much less than a snowball's chance in hell at sustaining it longer than a second. The unmodified version, at least.

Heck, if the pain I felt when McGonnagal's Patronus charged me and the demon was an indicator, even _attempting_ to cast it would probably hurt like nothing else.

Even worse, it's the only method of dealing with the demons when they get uppity without leading to _all sorts_ of questions, at least according to Dumbledore. Every other option can, and probably will, lead into an investigation.

Ginny looked extremely disheartened when Dumbledore told about how difficult the spell was. It's good to know that she values being able to defend herself too.

Oh, and Dumbledore said he couldn't really do anything about the demons. He also shot me a weird look, which I promptly ignored, hoping it was a mistake.

So, long story short, the only option that won't raise red flags is magic I physically cannot cast, Ginny lacks the power to cast it by herself, and even worse, it _hurts_ for me to be near it.

Well, I know now what my next project is.

Disassembling the damn thing.

Let's hope it will be done by the end of the year.

* * *

Ginny approached me earlier.

She wants to learn the kind of magic that I used against the demon.

Probably because she thinks that what I'm throwing around is easier than the Patronus.

It's not.

It's my spell, and it's not even her kind of magic. I've never tried to teach it to another, much less a human.

I promised to figure out what I can, or can't teach her, and that I'd keep an open mind.

But I did say that I wasn't sure that her family would _appreciate_ her learning that kind of magic from me.

But I'm really not sure.

If I teach her it

She'll be defended, I guess, but

No. Even what little protection the spell would give her could put not just me, but her at risk as well.

I trust her, but

Would she trust me if she knew the truth?

In the morning, I'll tell her it's not possible to teach her the spells.

I hope she can forgive me.

* * *

There's something wrong.

Earlier today, I was following this gigantic cat.

No, not the custodian's cat, I mean the biggest cat I've seen in the castle. It was a reasonably ugly thing too, a bright orange, slightly magical feline.

Anyway, the cat was clutching someone's wand in its teeth.

I managed to track the cat out into the forest, where I saw it disappear into a tunnel underneath a rather vicious tree.

The tree didn't manage to do any lasting damage, and even better, the tunnel lead to something rather interesting.

Notably, the signature of the dog is there.

The one in the forest.

The one that I am pretty much certain is not a regular dog.

I'd charge in myself, but I

No, I want backup for this one.

I'm going to go get Ginny.

Tomorrow, we figure out just what this creature is.

* * *

 **V2**


	18. (Y2, P5, O1) Sirius Business

_Goodbye timeline my old friend_

 _So long till I see you again_

* * *

A pale, gaunt figure shivered in the darkness, his face barely illuminated by small candle in front of him, and the light of the dying sun filtering in through grimy windows.

It had only been less than a year since he had escaped Azkaban. Hell on earth, more like.

He leaned back against the rickety chair, listening to the quiet, steady dripping of the pipes above.

The Shrieking Shack…

Sirius sighed. How many nights had he spent here, keeping his friend Moony's company through the worst of his fits? How many nights had he been in the company of his two, true friends?

Did Moony still remember him? Or had he fallen to the very same lies which now suffused the Wizarding world?

They believed him a criminal! A Death Eater with the motive to hurt Harry. To hurt his **godson**!

Sirius spat a glob of saliva upon the wooden floor.

He was finally free, but yet, he couldn't rest. Every inch of his frayed mind screamed at him to run, to flee the country, away from the Dementors that hunted him. But he couldn't. Not yet.

Not until he was certain that Prongs' son was safe. Safe and happy, as Prongs and Lily should be. As they _deserved_ to be.

He slowly rose to his feet.

He had never been one to wait: his inner Gryffindor screamed at him to charge the castle, to find his godson, to tell him the truth.

To hope that the acceptance Prongs had one possessed flowed through his son as well.

He hoped that he'd have friends again.

He turned towards the front door.

Perhaps he'd even be able to play a prank on Snivellus again, just like the old times!

A small click echoed through the house. Perhaps the cat again?

He slowly turned towards the noise, just in time to see a whip of blazing energy rush towards him.

And then everything was black.

* * *

Sirius' vision swam as he regained consciousness. A pounding headache thrummed through his ears, all but deafening him.

The first thing to return was his sense of direction: notably, what was supposed to be up, was actually left.

Second to return was his sense of feeling: notably, his wrists, ankles, elbows, knees, and neck were supporting his entire weight, and were sore from contact with some sort of heated metal.

As his pulse began to race in terror, his vision finally cleared.

Only to reveal an extremely familiar smile gracing a young girl.

A blonde, younger version of Bellatrix stared back at him with black eyes, smirking at him with an unmistakable, psychotic grin.

"Hello Sirius," she spoke with every bit of viciousness he remembered. "You honestly believed you escaped, didn't you?"

One thought filled Sirius' mind as his consciousness began to fade again. Notably:

When the hell did Bellatrix get laid?

 _How_ the hell did Bellatrix get laid?

* * *

Sirius awoke again to the sting of something impacting his gut.

Before him, was the same girl as before, except now, she was joined by a young, furious-looking redhead…

'Lily?' He pondered, for only a moment. 'No, it's not Lily.'

He could see clearly now, just quickly enough to watch the second girl's fist collide with his gut.

"Good shot, but try aiming a bit lower, and to the left." chimed the first girl.

"Like this?" replied the redhead, as she threw another, light punch. It stung a little, but was nothing sirius.

"Whuh?" murmured Sirius, as eloquently as he could. He mentally flipped through his Auror training. Nope, nothing on what to do when captured by two angry girls.

"Oh, he's awake!" exclaimed the blonde. "We should probably try and get some answers from him."

She leaned closely, enough to reveal sharp, vicious looking teeth. "Hello, Sirius Black. Me, and my associate here," she gestured to her side, "are quite worried about your activities recently."

"And your activities are that much more acceptable?" murmured back the convict.

The redhead turned to her acquaintance. "You can hit him this time."

There was the light sound of cracking knuckles, before another fist impacted Sirius's abdomen, much harder than the last.

Unfortunately, this one hit him in the spleen.

Sirius bit down on his lip to avoid crying out.

"Hit him there. Hurts more." pointed out the blonde.

"Why aren't we using spells again?" questioned the redhead.

"Mostly because I don't really want to leave traces for people to follow. Also, because punching people is fun." smirked the blonde.

"Shouldn't we be asking him questions?"

They both turned back towards Sirius.

The redhead retrieved a small pad of paper, as she asked the first question.

"Okay. Question number 1: How did you escape Azkaban?"

"Sneaked past the guards." replied Sirius. Keep it simple, thought Sirius. They don't need to know the whole story.

"Probably turned into the dog I was following earlier, or had help from it. They both feel really similar, so they're either the same, or it's a long-time family pet or something." supplied the blonde.

Sirius stared back in disbelief.

"Question 2: Why do you want to hurt Harry Potter?"

"I don't!" declared Sirius, after he had given his mind enough time to reboot.

"Don't lie!" threatened the redhead. "I know you're out to get him. It said so in the Daily Prophet!"

"I'm telling you! I'm innocent! The Prophet is lying! I'm not the traitor!"

The second punch, this time impacting the gallbladder, forced Sirius to change tactics.

"I'll give you anything you want! But I swear, I'm innocent!"

The blonde tilted her head to the side.

"Do you have a pony?"

His face blanked for a moment. What?

"Just kidding! Liver punch!"

Sirius could barely fight back the urge to vomit as the blow hit him, much harder than the last few. The chains rattled slightly as his arms involuntarily seized.

"I want an unbreakable oath saying you have no ill intentions towards Potter, and that you do not, under any circumstances, take revenge against any of the following: My family, my friend's family, our acquaintances, or our acquaintances' families." declared the blonde.

"Will it get me down from here?" murmured Sirius, his mouth still locked in a wince.

"Probably." answered the redhead.

"If not, then we'll start aiming… lower." continued the blonde, with a disturbingly even tone.

'NO! Not little Padfoot!' Sirius mentally screamed.

Sirius could not swear the oath fast enough.

* * *

Severus Snape wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish, when he had earlier decided to follow the two Gryffindors.

He had been on one of his evening strolls, when he had seen the two rush off into the forest, likely to cause trouble.

Having nothing better to do, he had traced the two's steps.

He could only feel glad that he had chosen to do so.

As he sat disillusioned in the tunnel, he couldn't help but bask in every glorious moment of what was happening above.

Even as he left, a rare smile adorned his face.

He had found himself his new Patronus memory.

* * *

 _AN: And here you see why Snape isn't terrible to Aurelia._

 _Mostly because she keeps hurting the people that Snape doesn't like._


	19. (Y2, P6) Preparations

**Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Ginny pretty much jumped me as soon as we made it back to our dorms.

 _'Are you sure what we did was all right?'_

 _'Are you sure the oath will hold him?'_

 _How do you even know how to make magical oaths?"_

And so forth.

First thing I did was congratulate her on holding her composure together for the entire time, and not dropping my name once. I know I went over it with her before we did our little ambush, but I'm glad she kept her head on straight, rather than panicking.

Second thing I did was mention something she wasn't exactly happy about.

Namely, the oath I made him swear?

It meant less than shit.

Now, here's a funny fact about magical oaths.

They're dangerous, extremely useful, and, if done correctly, can completely remove an obstacle.

They also have an upkeep cost. And the amount of magic used in the upkeep, _isn't_ tiny.

That is why there isn't a mandatory oath to be sworn by absolutely **everyone**.

One oath? Fine.

Takes a bit of magic from both ends. Mostly to punish whatever sorry bastard breaks the bargain.

But if one person demands an oath from a group of people, he or she has to pay the cost for every single individual involved. It'd be more or less fine at first, but around the fifty mark, it begins to become obvious that your magic isn't working correctly any more.

Theoretically, you could sacrifice a powerful enough mage's magic entirely to bind an entire organisation, but that'd be a rather massive life decision, and leaves the entire thing open to being sabotaged by just killing the damn oathkeeper.

I mean, there's other ways around it, but they're either stupid, or don't work correctly anyway. Some of the time, it's possible to accidentally, or even purposefully break those oaths, and repercussions are often either delayed, or nonexistent.

So anyway, I had to explain to Ginny that, while the oath wouldn't technically protect us, I'm pretty sure that we scared him enough that he won't try anything. The important thing was that we bluffed him hard enough that he truly _believes_ that he's under oath, and that if he breaks it, he'll die.

I mean, there _are_ ways to break a magical bond, but if you screw up breaking it, you die. In fact, if you break a bond, one way or another, one of the two oathkeepers will either die or get hit by the backlash. And backlash generally sucks to be hit by.

The secret's to make the other person take the hit.

Either way, Ginny's still not entirely convinced that we're entirely safe. She's asking me to help her practice some combat spells, maybe get an edge on the competition.

* * *

Practice has officially begun: Ginny's gone ahead and made a list of a couple of spells she wants to learn, mostly from the textbooks.

Nothing major, to be honest: a couple of direct-combat disruption spells, and some weird conjuration-thing she calls the Bat-Boogie hex. Oh, and the 'standard' rotation: the Reductor Curse (directed, explosive spell), Shield spell, and the Stunning spell (as well as its counterspell).

The spells I added to the list were a little bit different.

I added in my own steam curse, a cloaking mist hex, and the rather entertaining anti-shield spell my father came up with when he was experimenting with dispelling enchanted objects at a range.

Who would have thought that a spell that rather violently expels magic from improperly enchanted items would be extremely effective against magic-fed shields?

Oh, and the Patronus charm, but neither of us has particularly high expectations towards being able to cast the damn thing.

About a third of the spells on our list are 'appropriate' for our year level.

Yeah, right. Like that's going to stop us.

From the list, we managed to separate the spells into a couple of categories.

There were the spells that we could practice in our dorm, which are more or less harmless. The stunner, a few of the disabling hexes, and the mist spell were all on that list.

And then there were the spells where we both know, and _acknowledge_ , that if we attempt to cast within our dorm, we'd be staring at a nice, solid hole in our wall. Or grievous bodily harm.

So, we spent our next Saturday kicking back and forth various ideas on where to practice the spells. The forest was out, because of our little demon infestation, and neither of us felt lucky enough to go scouting for spare rooms to practice in.

Also angry unicorns, but I didn't bring that up.

I briefly touched upon the chamber where the big snake was, but Ginny shook the idea off. Although it'd be perfect, she lacked not only the knowledge of where it was, but also of how to get inside.

After that, we got right to throwing the disabling hexes at one another. I dropped her four or five times, while she only was able to force me to my knees once or twice.

I had to explain to Ginny that, no, her magic was fine. I was just extremely resistant to magic. I said it was in my blood.

She's been giving me a weird look since then.

I know that this secret is flimsy. Risky. But I need to keep it…

On the plus side, I'm slightly better at bluffing my way through the spellcasting that's native to the school now: I didn't slip into my old stances, or cast an obscure spell even once.

Though I might need to start introducing them over time. Pivoting and follow-through for non-physical spells doesn't really do much, but they _do_ help mobility a bit.

* * *

Dammit.

Well, it seems we're fresh out of places to scout out to practice spells.

With the Demons as close as they are, we couldn't find any place obscure enough to toss the real destructive spells around. In fact, neither of us are sure whether or not we're even able to muster enough magical control to cast them yet. So, we've just stuck to throwing around more and more disabling spells around.

It took a bit of convincing, but Ginny's begun to add the Bat-Boogie spell into her rotation when practicing with me.

It's an interesting spell, for sure. It uses snot as a spell reagent. Since it actually _has_ a reagent, unlike the previous spells we were throwing around, it's slightly stronger than the other spells of its power and class. Either way, it goes through my spell resistance (since it is a conjuration, not a disabling spell), and I actually need to dispel the thing, rather than just powering through.

On my side, I added in my steam curse, toned down to only leave skin red and sore.

Ginny's more or less becoming proficient with her Jelly-Legs Jinx, Leg-Locker, and Slug Vomiting (It didn't properly catch when used on me, but _man_ , it felt, and **tasted** horrible!) Jinx, and Bat-Boogie, but she's still suffering a bit in the power department. She's got more than enough power right to incapacitate a student four years older than her, but not quite enough to get me. We'll need to work on that.

I, on the other hand, have taken to a rather different setup. My go-to spells are all a little bit less versatile (although I'm working on that), but hit hard. I think I'd probably be able to pull off a stunner with a little bit more practice, but right now, I'm sticking to the standard Disarming Jinx, Blinding Mist, and the occasional Knockback Jinx. I can't quite control the last one very well, so we've set up a bunch of cushioning charms on the walls.

Several times, Ginny's asked me about whether or not it's a 'ladylike' thing to learn how to duel.

I didn't really answer her, but I'm hoping the look I gave her answered her question.

* * *

Does Granger have an identical twin sister?

Ginny and I were going for a walk, as a break from our little practice, when we saw Granger go running off in one direction, before appearing from a different hallway, headed in the completely opposite direction.

Perhaps there's a clone spell or something kicking around.

Food for thought, I suppose.

* * *

What classes am I going to take next year?

Well…

Ancient runes, for sure. I'm _obviously_ fluent in Infernal Runes, and could probably pick up Nordic, and Greek pretty easily.

I don't think they'll teach us Deep Runes, but if they do, I'm ready to learn that, too.

The other subjects aren't really that useful to me.

I'm pretty certain Care for Magical Creatures is going to be more dangerous for me than anyone else, to be honest. It seems like a disaster in the making.

I'll see if there's a magical item fabrication class. That could be fun, and useful.

Ginny's staring at the list on her side of the room more or less quietly, but I don't think I'll share her electives. I'll go check though.

* * *

She's not certain she'll have time to pick up as many electives. Apparently, she really wants to be on the Quidditch team, at least as a secondary chaser, and isn't sure whether she'll have enough time to both practice, and keep ahead of her work.

What she was angsting about, however, was whether or not she'd even make the team!

Apparently, she believes her brothers, who apparently say that she's no good.

Stupid girl honestly believed that she wasn't going to make the team in a heartbeat!

I've seen her reflexes first-hand. I've seen her on a broom, heck, I'm pretty sure that if she got a decent broom, she'd be able to keep up to me, if I was using my _wings_!

I ended up giving her an impromptu pep-talk, the main points mostly focusing upon 'Anyone who wouldn't let you on the team is a blind idiot' and 'You'll make the team, or else I'll be right behind you when you go to whup the captain's ass'.

I then bet that she wouldn't make the team, with the wager of helping fund her a new broom if I lost.

I think I might've overdone it with the wink.

She did end up rolling her eyes at me, but will probably be wearing that smile for the next while.

* * *

I bumped into Luna today, who was by herself, busy examining the walls of one of the upper floors.

She was muttering something about some sort of invisible creature.

Now, I'm not to certain about the creature, but the way she was describing it, really sounds similar to a ward leak. While generally that's not a good thing, it does mean that there's a **lot** more available ambient magic than I thought there was.

Luna greeted me with her standard 'Fel', and I returned my standard eye-roll.

Our conversation was a little bit weird, starting with wards, and then eventually ending up with magical creatures, of all things.

In retrospect, it was pretty obvious that our discussion would end up with magical creatures.

At the end of the day, Luna agreed that it was possible that Nargles (I don't think that's the name for them, but who am I to disagree) could potentially be accidentally-manifested ambient magic, created by strong emotions in wizards. Their other properties could just be a side effect of the type of magic that was leaking. I did get a couple of head tilts and stares, but that was par for the course.

As she left for the Ravenclaw Common Room, her parting comment was that school was much more interesting when not being bullied.

I'm not quite sure what to make of that.

* * *

 **V2**


	20. (Y2, P7) Ambition

_**Notice:** Next chapter will be delayed till monday. I want to get it done right._

* * *

 **Through A Half-Breed's Eyes**

Well, it turns out that there _are_ spells the other girls here care about.

Turns out the steam charm I've been using is pretty useful to clean fancy clothing with.

I learned this, of course, when using the steam charm to kill a spider. It seems that one of the girls (Lavender, I think) saw me cast, and immediately thought _dry cleaning spell_.

So I made a bit of money (about three Galleons or so) teaching them the spell.

I can say for a fact that none of them have talked to me ever since.

Oh well, a bit of money is always nice.

* * *

The demons on the grounds are starting to get restless again: likely due to the upcoming full moon.

To be honest, I've never really understood how or why certain magics are tied to the moon, but

Well.

I guess they just are.

Anyway, nearly had a rather massive slip-up in Defense today: we were practicing the knockback hex…

Well, let's just say I accidentally launched my partner across the room, and it's a good thing that mister werewolf was fast enough to get that cushioning charm up before impact.

Anyway, the flying body managed to hit a bookshelf, and even with the cushioning charm, it was enough to knock a rather perilously perched bottle of potion off.

Again, I'm just going to say this for the record: I had no idea it was up there.

So, down goes the potion, and the professor turns white, before he makes a brilliant diving catch on the bottle, rousing a room-wide burst of applause.

The teacher's looking both embarrassed, and terrified as he turns back around, clutching the potion like it's made of solid gold.

Maybe it is.

I've seen potions made of weirder.

Anyway, after a display like that, I ended up staying afterwards, hopefully to get an explanation of what evoked that rather impressive display of acrobatics.

Turns out the bottle was medicine. He didn't say what exactly the medicine was for, but from the way he stressed his words, it's either for something fatal, or incredibly embarrassing. Potentially both.

He shot me a dirty look when I asked if it was flea medicine, but besides that, I didn't get much more details.

* * *

God dammit Potter.

Turns out he, Professor Werewolf, Ronniekins, Granger,

And allegedly Black too,

All managed to get attacked by several dozen demons while me and Ginny were in classes today.

Now, normally that'd be horrifying, and Ginny'd be bawling, but apparently, they managed to get Patronuses (Patronus? Patroni?) up, and ward them off long enough to make a break for it.

Also, apparently, about halfway to the castle, the professor turned into a werewolf and just followed Black and Potter around for the rest of the trip.

Way to be a team player, man.

Either way, word's gotten out that the professor's now under rather intense scrutiny for not only aiding a wanted criminal, but also for turning into a dog in public. Very rude, that.

Potter and co have gotten off scott-free, and the demons apparently are _finally_ 'dangerous' enough to consider being removed from the school.

So, rather than being terrified, Ginny's just mad at being unable to help.

Which is stupid, because I don't think she'd be able to pull off a Patronus.

Long story short, Potter's happier than I've ever seen him, but also looking devastated because he needs to go home for the summer (I can't imagine the streets are fun to be on, for the summer), I caught Granger passed out in the common room, with a book on

Patroni?

What the hell is the plural of Patronus?

I sure as hell am not writing 'multiple instances of the Patronus Charm' every time.

Fuck it, they're Patroni now.

Actually, I'll ask Ginny.

* * *

So, Ginny's asked me if I plan on showing up for the world-tier Quidditch match, that's going down this summer.

Of course, I had to ask what class of Demon would attack a match of _that_ calibur. I got a light slap in the face in return.

Ginny sighed when I said that I didn't have a ticket, and it was unlikely I'd buy any.

Apparently they have a spare (one of her brothers is going with someone else) and the one spare they have is spoken for.

She did smile again when I asked if she was planning on learning a couple of tricks to put the other teams in their place, come next year.

Oh, and she has absolutely no idea what the plural of Patronus is.

* * *

I checked in with the Headmaster today, asked what sort of wards he'd be putting up on the castle to prevent the Dementors from coming back.

He paused for a couple moments, before just saying that they were nothing for me to worry about.

With nothing better to go on, I'm going to go with cautiously optimistic.

Oh!

And the plural of Patronus is, indeed Patroni.

Thank you, Dumbledore, for actually knowing.

* * *

Train. Whoopee.

This time, I'm sitting with Ginny near the Potter Three (or whatever their new nickname is). Luna's off on her own this time. I did manage to bump into her long enough to say goodbye, though.

Almost immediately upon stepping into the compartment, Ginny's brother asks the absolute worst question, namely

'So, what's it like putting up with my sister's whining all day?'

Three seconds later, he's got red hand-prints on his face from both of us.

Ignoring him like the annoyance he is, I ended up re-introducing myself, and then striking up a conversation with Potter. Potter was, at the time, shooting a look at Ginny somewhere between shocked acknowledgement, and fear.

Then again, Potter's **always** looking at people with a face full of fear. It's who he is, dammit.

Anyway, the plans of everyone over the summer is as follows:

 **Ginny** : World Cup, Quidditch Practice

Ronniekins shot her a bug-eyed stare of astonishment, before I pointed at my foot, then at his crotch. That shut him up, real good.

 **Potter** : 'surviving'

I… don't actually have anything to say about that.

 **Annoying Weasley** : World Cup, Quidditch Practice

 **Granger** : Studying.

I think the entire compartment groaned when she said that. As if we didn't know that!

And of course

 **Me** : Trying to figure out what sort of horrifying monster will attack Potter next year.

 _That_ got an entire cabin's worth of eye rolls, but to my surprise, no one complained, or refuted me.

We've all been quiet for about fifteen minutes,

Oh. Well, we're here. Time to go.

Wait, isn't the train trip supposed to be two hours long?

* * *

 _And thus ends year 2._

 _There will be two omakes after this, the usual Potter one, and the long-awaited Ginny one._

 _Oh:_

 _Thank you for your wonderful reviews._

 ** _V2_**


	21. (Y2, P7, O1) Marauders

_**Important:** with me going back to college this week, rate of updates is going to be greatly slowed. Expect update rate to slow significantly._

 _I hope to get a chapter done a week, but I may not update on Fridays, if something important comes up._

* * *

 _ **Note** : this takes place **during** the last chapter._

* * *

If Ron wasn't his best friend, Harry would have questioned why he was following Hermione's cat into a dark, foreboding, passageway. Only the occasional enchanted candle sconce fought back the gloom, but even then, every brick looked the same. He had no way of knowing just how far he had run, or how much further there was left to go.

As is, he was doing his very best to keep his head on straight. Everyone knew that there were Dementors roaming around the outskirts of the castle: they even had attacked Ron's sister!

Still, his loyalty to his friends, bolstered by his now-confident proficiency with the Patronus Charm, won out over his fear, as it always had. And, he truly hoped, it always would.

"We need to catch that cat, before it eats Scabbers!" wailed Ron, who was puffing with effort, but was still making relatively good time.

"Actually, cats tend to play with their prey, rather than just eating them. It should be at least two minutes before Scabbers is in any real danger. In fact, one of the main reasons that a cat would carry a half-dead rat all of this way would be… Oh Crookshanks, you better not have kittens!" intoned Hermione, whose face had long since turned red.

" _You're not helping_!" screamed Ron.

Yup, just another year at Hogwarts.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, with only a small handful of turns in various directions. Still, they knew they were going in the right direction, as the occasional flash of orange fur and the still-audible squeak of terrified rodent guided them in the proper direction.

And then, at the end of their few minutes of running, the path narrowed down, and curved upwards.

At the top of the slope, the three were able to see Crookshanks paw frantically at a closed door. Then, the click of a lock disengaging, and the creak of rusted hinges opening inwards.

The three shared a quick glance. Hermione hadn't been with them when they had stormed the Chamber, but both boys knew another wand arm could potentially make all of the difference. Their experience their first year was proof of that.

One after another, they barged through the door, wands ready.

* * *

As the student's eyes adjusted to the much-better-lit room, they could hear another, deeper voice from nearby.

"To be honest, I'm amazed you managed to grab him. I'd have thought you'd have more issues grabbing the slimy bugger."

Harry took the forward point as they approached the voice, as quietly as they could.

"Hello Wormtail." continued the voice, in a mocking tone, after but a small shuffling of robes. "You can't seriously believe that I'd not find you, after what you did to me? After what you did to Lily and Prongs?"

'Lily… Wasn't that my mother's name?' pondered Harry, as he stepped closer. In a bit of grim irony, only Harry's practice avoiding the Dursleys allowed him to keep silent.

The voice chuckled. "No wait. I'm Sirius. And you? You are a dead man."

Again, the three glanced towards each other, faces alight with dawning terror. Sirius Black, the escapee from Azkaban, was in the next room! With a hostage, nonetheless!

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you just yet. I need you alive, after all."

One by one, they entered the room, taking up positions to make an ambush.

Unfortunately, Ron wasn't quite as light-footed as his companions.

Sirius Black whirled around towards the noise, but was struck by three hastily-evoked Stunning spells within moments.

Harry couldn't help but wonder why Sirius's hands immediately covered his crotch the moment he spotted Ron.

Needless to say, the convict went down hard, falling like a cloven tree with a crunch.

"We should probably get Dumbledore." spoke Hermione.

"And leave him here _unguarded_? What if he escapes?" blurted out Ron.

"I'm not comfortable leaving only two of us here to guard him… what if he gets the drop on one of you?" murmured Harry.

With a unanimous decision towards blatant confusion, the three took seats nearby, and began to take stock of the situation.

Scabbers was safe and sound within a ventilated jar (although he was squeaking in a weird rhythm, almost as if he was laughing), Black was strangely without a wand at all (and seriously needed a shower), and there was a letter on the table, in an unsealed envelope.

"Y'know, I might actually keep him in the jar. Makes it easier to keep track of him." pointed out Ron.

The squeaking stopped.

Meanwhile, Harry retrieved the envelope, and with some trepidation, opened it.

He had barely begun to read the letter, when he was interrupted by Ron.

"Get real, mate! There's no way you're going to read it alone. Besides, it'll be faster if you just read it once."

And so, with nary a quiver in his voice, Harry began to read.

" _Dear Harry._ "

Harry paused, but was urged on by Ron and Hermione.

" _I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you, for the past ten years._

 _I'm sorry that I made that stupid mistake, that led to me being imprisoned in Azkaban._

 _I mean, I'm not sorry that I got thrown in Azkaban. I am sorry that I couldn't tell you about your parents._

 _Me and James, your father, go way back: he was my first friend. Being in a family of Dark Wizards, while being a little bit… softer, wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world._

 _Right, I should probably get to why I'm here._

 _You see, I'm hunting someone._

 _Someone who should be dead. Someone, who due to the fact that they are 'dead', I was thrown into Azkaban._

 _I am innocent. I was framed for a murder that I would never commit, in addition to a murder I never managed to accomplish. Wait, that sounds bad._

 _Your parents were protected by an old, powerful sort of magic known as a Fidelius Charm._

 _The magic works, by naming a person as a Secret Keeper, and all but the Secret Keeper forget all knowledge of the topic targeted. The Secret Keeper is able to spread the knowledge, and he did to James, Lily, and Me. Unfortunately, people who have the secret passed **from** the secret keeper are unable to further pass on the secret._

 _As you can tell, I am not the Secret Keeper._

 _The Secret Keeper, is Peter Pettigrew, the man I was framed for murdering._

 _I am telling the truth. Since Pettigrew is still alive, the Fidelius is still active._

 _I cannot tell you the direct truth of the matter, but ask Dumbledore about where your parents lived. If he cannot tell you, then ask him what a Fidelius is._

 _I've been searching for Pettigrew for the past year. He's an Animagus, a Wizard able to assume the form of a rat._

 _I hoped to capture Pettigrew, and reveal him to the Ministry. Hopefully, they'll finally take the collective sticks out of their collective asses, and grant me the pardon I deserve._

 _Yours truly,_

 _Sirius Black_

 _Padfoot_ "

"Blimey. This is pretty serious, isn't it." muttered Ron, who was the first to recover from the shock.

"No," came a groan from the floor. "I'm Sirius, and I object to being called pretty. I much prefer handsome, and/or dashing."

The entire room flinched as the convict stirred. Unfortunately, Ron, who was mid-step, involuntarily brought his foot down.

Directly onto Sirius's unmentionables.

"Merlin's beard mate! I'm so sorry!" he murmured, shamefaced, as Black writhed upon the floor, groaning in pain.

"I… deserved… that…" slowly groaned Sirius, through gritted teeth. "What… is with… you Prewetts… and... kicking me… there?"

"So the letter's true, then?" interrupted Harry, even as the grimace faded from Sirius's face.

"More or less. There's more to it, but that's the gist of it." answered Sirius.

"Hold a minute, mate." interrupted Ron. "What do you mean by 'you Prewetts'?"

"You've got the signature Prewett red hair, for one. Just like the girl who tied me up earlier."

There was a slight pause.

"Ginny did _what_?" screamed Ron.

"Yeah, she and her blonde friend got the drop on me earlier this month. Tied me up, and punched me till I told them everything." admitted Sirius.

Scabbers' squeaking was back in force, rising in pitch and frequency.

"Shut it, you." growled Sirius.

"So… why did you kidnap Ron's rat, anyway?" queried Hermione.

"Oh, him? He's Peter Pettigrew, the rat animagus. He's the one who betrayed Harry's parents, and an avid supporter of You-Know-Who."

Ron's face went entirely pale, his grip slacking, and eyes unfocused.

"He's been living with our family for _years_! He's been sleeping in our _beds_!"

"Ew." murmured Hermione. Harry couldn't help but agree.

Sensing his only opportunity, Pettigrew slammed his body against the side of the jar, tipping it out of Ron's grasp. Even Harry's Seeker reflexes weren't enough to catch the vessel, before it fell to the floor with a crash.

In seconds, the rat was free, and had opened up to full sprint.

What followed, was a Tom-And-Jerry-esque chase, as the four humans, (but at some point, Sirius had turned into a dog), chased the rat around the house, knocking over furniture, and generally causing a massive amount of noise.

However, they finally cornered Pettigrew.

Just in time for Professor Lupin to throw open the shack's door loud enough to startle everyone, his wand alight.

" **Dammit Moony**!" screamed Sirius, as he watched his ticket to freedom flee through the door into the distance.

Lupin glanced at Sirius, then the kids, then the _setting sun_ of all things, and then back at the fleeing rodent, which had stopped momentarily to seemingly blow a raspberry in Sirius's general direction. He scratched his head slowly, mentally putting the pieces together.

"Oh. Oh bollocks." was his answer, a minute later.

"Bollocks indeed." muttered Sirius, face in his hands.


	22. (Y2, P7, O2) Summertime

_Man, this chapter was fun to write._

* * *

In a small bedroom overlooking the orchard, Ginevra Weasley slowly flipped through the pages of yet another Quidditch manual, this particular one detailing team strategy.

It had taken serious effort, but she had finally acquired a good dozen from the rest of her family. While neither the Twins, nor Ron possessed any manuals focusing upon becoming a Chaser, their generalist guides were more than enough to get started.

Sure, they had goaded her, and made fun of her for 'trying to be a boy' (The Twins much more so than Ron, who had become wary of her, for some reason), but their words, well, really lacked the weight they had possessed before.

The fact that they had caved after a few good threats, and a now-practiced malicious smile only helped grease the gears of progress.

Of course, that didn't stop the oft-spoken 'Ickle Gin-Gin's grown herself some _teeth_!' that they endlessly spewed.

You'd have thought they'd have learned after the _fifth_ time she'd kicked them, but noooo.

Still, annoying brothers aside, Ginny was enjoying her summer to the fullest. While her parents lacked the budget necessary to buy her a new, personal broom, they had found a way. Percy, who had recently begun his own studying for some awful bureaucratic nightmare, was lending her his broom instead.

She had to promise him not to damage it, but with the Twins occasionally bringing their expertise to her practice sessions, she really wished she hadn't made that promise.

She took another deep sigh.

Yet another book retreading the same information. Occasionally, one would have details on some obscure, yet effective move, and she'd write it down for later use, but more than half seemed like they were written by someone who hadn't played Quidditch at all!

Sure, learning about the history of the game was great, but unlike Ron, her goals were weighted a bit differently.

Notably, she didn't want to just play: she wanted to **win** , damn it!

Placing the book down in the 'finished' pile, she reached for the next.

Only to have her fingers grasp parchment, rather than the book she was expecting.

'Oh right. The letter.' she inwardly groaned.

Although neither of the two had agreed on it before they had left for the summer, she couldn't help but feel that Aurelia, who was fast becoming her best friend, would want to stay in contact, if only to share interesting stories with one another.

'Maybe I can even convince her to try out for the team with me!' she pondered, smiling the entire way.

And then blinked.

Despite how close she had gotten with the blonde, there were still some things that didn't make sense about her.

Although by no means a bad person, she tended to be weird.

And not Lovegood weird either, just… weird.

It really was the little things that were the most unnerving, things that Ginny knew she would have overlooked, had she not spent as much time near as she had.

Things like how Aura always seemed to have her back to a wall, or how she always seemed to jolt immediately awake, unlike pretty much anyone else she had ever known. For the first week after getting back to Hogwarts, she was pretty much always extremely jumpy, rude, and oftentimes paranoid.

Not even going into her seemingly-unique, and quite blatant _immunity_ to over a third of her magic! Ginny even occasionally caught her attempting to _create_ new spells, although usually with mixed results. More often than not, during those days, she'd awake to the smell of burning or the sound of an explosion, and the sound of furious cussing, oftentimes in a language she couldn't even understand.

When asked about it, she had played off her experiments as a 'family magic'.

In fact, most of the strange things she did were played off as 'family magic'.

As far as family went, that was another factor. Although she hadn't really looked much into it, Ginny could only assume that Aura was a pureblood.

Not like it was easy to tell. Any attempt by a Slytherin (Or other houses, but it was usually Slytherin) to push 'blood purity' around her tended to be interrupted by an equally-angry rant, usually to the tune of 'blood means shit, but power is power'. In her own words. To be honest, Ginny worried about ever introducing Aura to the family: with a mouth like hers, it'd only be a matter of time before something crude slipped out and whipped her mother into a frenzy. Either way, it'd lead to a flurry of Mouth-Soaping hexes, none of which would likely do anything at all to the magic-resistant Witch.

Although she didn't entirely agree with her exact viewpoint, it was certainly much more accepting than the Slytherin perspective, and she was taking what she could get. Either way, it tended to piss off more than just the Slytherins: although Aura never said much about it, several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs tended to give her jeering glares as she passed.

And then came the 'personal' magic Aurelia was using itself.

Ginny had asked someone for information on one of her spells. Once.

Because that one time, when she had asked for details about the fire-chain spell she had Aura use, the shopkeeper had given her a shocked, terrified expression. Then he shooed her from the bookstore, urged her to reconsider the path she was taking, and then slammed the door behind her.

If Aura's magic was truly Dark, then why had she seemed so friendly?

Being Dark certainly explained her affinity for physical, magical, and mental violence, but beyond that, she was more or less harmless.

'Perhaps', considered Ginny, 'There is more than one shade of Dark?'

That unhappy thought out of the way, she continued.

Dark or not, Aura had played a major role: she had been her personal saviour at least twice. First with poisoning that… _book thing_ that was eating her soul long enough for The-Boy-Who-Lived to kill it, and then, last year, protecting her from the Dementors, not just once, but twice!

Her parents still hadn't learned of the first of the two incidents, but the second had become school-wide gossip mere moments after it had occurred. And while Molly Weasley was by no means a Slytherin, she definitely had her own channels for keeping up with the gossip.

To say that she was horrified with the events would be the understatement of the year.

It had taken serious effort, but she eventually convinced her mother than, yes, the school was now safe. After all, the Dementors had been redeployed somewhere else, what with Black being spotted somewhere else.

'Black.' she snorted. 'Some criminal, huh?'

She'd been terrified out of her mind when Aura had suggested that plan, but had went through with it, if only to ensure that Aura had backup.

Being able to actually _do_ something without her brothers overshadowing her helped, too.

Even after the event, she was terrified that Black would track her down, fake oath be damned.

It was only after Ron stopped in her in the halls to tell her the whole story (of course, he first lectured her for foolishly attacking him in the first place) did she finally feel safe.

Although she felt some guilt for having attacked an innocent person, it really served him right for sucking at communicating that badly.

According to Ron, Black, while not refuting his own stance as Dark, had revealed himself to fight for the Light.

She nodded to herself. That'd have to be the case for Aura. In the Dark, picking fighting those around her.

'Sounds a lot like her, to be honest.' she snorted.

'Tonight.' she promised, moving the letter aside, as she reached for the next book.

* * *

"Ginny!" called Ron, from the floor above.

She placed down the book, this one about broom maintenance and proper handling. Definitely one to keep on hand.

"Start getting ready! We're picking up Harry in an hour or so, then we're off to the World Cup! Remember to wear your Bulgaria Jersey!"

'Tomorrow.' she amended, as she rose to her feet in search of the elusive jersey.

* * *

The cup game was a real nail-biter, with Krum catching the Snitch, but Ireland winning the cup. The twins won a rather heavy wager, but were snubbed, instead receiving only three-quarters of the payout.

Sadly, Aura was not at the cup at all. It seemed that she was unable to acquire the tickets in time.

Of course, none of that really mattered.

Because she had been walking around, along with The-Boy-Who-Lived and Ron, when a man in a while mask had Apparated directly in front of them. She could hear dozens more of the telltale pops echo around her.

" **Locomotor Mortis!** " she screamed, quick-drawing her wand while the only Death Eater in line-of-sight was still dazed from transport. She was quickly supported by a Stunning Spell each from The-Boy-Who-Lived, and Ron. " **Regurgitae Mollusca!** " she continued, throwing in a Slug-Belching Hex for good measure.

The target, still blinking away the spots, had his legs seize up, and lost consciousness, before falling sideways into the mud. Once in the mud, he began to fill the inside of his mask with regurgitated slugs.

"Good shot, Ginny." remarked The-Boy-Who-Lived, causing Ginny's cheeks to redden slightly.

"Do we leave him here? Or do we bring him in so they can arrest this wanker?" quickly asked Ron.

"We have to. There could be more of them out here, and might not get lucky next time." answered The-Boy-Who-Lived.

"Take his mask." added Ron, "If we take it, we can use it as proof for self-defense, _and_ we can use it to brag about next year!"

"Probably a good idea." murmured The-Boy-Who-Lived, as Ginny reached down to unhook the mask. Beneath it…

Well, after about half of the slugs had been wiped away, none of the three actually recognised the person. In fact, none of them really expected to.

"Aww. No one we know. Oh well." whined Ron. "We need to get back to safety: there could be more of these wankers out here… and I don't particularly fancy getting in a fight with one who's got their heads together, no?"

The three immediately agreed, and began their sprint back to the Weasleys.

Of course, not before Ginny took a mighty stomp to the Death Eater's midsection, eliciting another eruption of slugs.

* * *

The Weasleys had scampered to cover the moment the moment the attack had begun, and had weathered the storm to the best of their abilities. Several times, a Death Eater had approached the tent, but had been quickly turned away by the flurry of aggressive magic which was launched from the tent.

"Didn't take Lucius much time to throw on his mask, did it? Must've been ready for just the occasion" murmured Arthur Weasley, who was continuously attempting to cast a Messenger Patronus. Unfortunately, the counterspell wards were already up, and burning strong.

Percy, on the other hand, was grumbling about how the entire security department should be sacked. If the fools on the security team actually knew how to _follow_ specific instructions from the Ministry, this whole mess would already be over and done with!

The twins, for once in a blue moon, saw nothing funny at all from the situation, and were sitting crouched in the blind spot of the tent door, wands out, ready to stun intruders.

Molly was worrying herself grey about her missing children, and charge, who were still out in the thick of things.

Not like that didn't stop everyone in the room from turning wands on the three when they ran in, winded and terrified.

Sheepishly, the other Weasleys lowered their wands, but not before quickly ensuring that they were, indeed the wayward children.

"Don't worry kids, the Aurors will be here soon." spoke Arthur, reassuringly.

Molly, on the other hand, took a much more direct approach.

"Merlin's wand, dears! I'm glad you three are safe! I can't bear to imagine what could've happened, had you bumped into one of those… those... horrible, evil… murderous… scum…" spoke Molly, although her voice wavered and at the end.

Arthur placed his unwanded hand upon his wife's shoulder, having finally managed to send a Patronus through.

"Everyone's safe. The wards just went down."

"Actually, we..." began Ron, but he was interrupted by a quick kick to the shin from Ginny, followed by a motion of a slashed neck, and a point towards his sobbing mother.

"Actually, I'm glad we're safe too." he recovered, as Ginny stashed the recovered mask into her bag.

"Well, I can't wait to go home" spoke Ginny. "I've a letter to write, and I finally know what to put in it!"

* * *

 ** _AN:_** _For the record, to put things into perspective, if Harry Potter ran off of Dungeons and Dragons 3.5, Aurelia would be a (Daemonic) Alu-Fiend, with a couple of tweaks swapping power for durability. Level-wise, she'd be floating at about level 1-2 Warlock right now._

 _Also of note, Dementors would be either an Aberration or a Daemon (Neutral evil, textbook Daemon, to be honest)_

 _I have the urge now to write a oneshot centering upon Aura meeting Milo from Sir Poley's Harry Potter and the Natural 20 (Amazing fic, I can't recommend it enough)_

 _Completely unrelated, but also worth mentioning, Ginny's perspective as only seeing Harry as The-Boy-Who-Lived is annoying. I'm hoping to have her break out of that._


	23. (Y3, P1) Pyrotechnics

_Chapter on Monday will be delayed._

* * *

 **Through A Half-Breed's Eyes**

Hello train, my old enemy. We meet again. Just thought I'd say that. Seriously, when can we start using magic to move to-and-from Hogwarts?

This time, Ginny practically grabbed me as soon as I stepped aboard (She was hiding in the corner, practically in ambush), and dragged me into a compartment.

The usual gang was all there, Weasley, Potter, Granger.

Almost immediately after I'm pulled inside, the door's slammed shut, warded quite heavily by Granger, and I'm directed to a seat between Ginny and Granger.

They then just sorta stared at each other for a bit. Mostly in confusion towards Ginny. Maybe about why she pulled me in.

Meanwhile, I'm just sitting here, waiting for them to say something.

Now, I knew about Ginny's little escapade over the summer (Good on her, seeing an opportunity to take down a more experienced combatant), but if they were here to brag, they'd have started already. Right now, they're just staring at me, waiting for the train to start.

Ah, I can feel the less-than-comfortable feeling of steel moving. Gonna put this down for now.

* * *

That's… not ideal.

Turns out, that something Ginny _didn't_ tell me in her letter, was that the person she took down was, for all intents and purposes, a cultist.

A cultist aligned with the sort of people that are after Potter.

Pardon me while I go circle 'cultist' on the _B_ _ig list of things that could and probably will attack Potter_ I've been compiling over the summer.

Right now, I've got the following things on it:

* * *

 _Cultist ( **Done** )_

 _Angels_

 _Kraken_

 _Elementals_

 _Harpies_

 _Vampires_

 _Demons, again_

 _Sharks_

 _Rabid Politicians_

 _Goats_

 _Dragons_

 _Aetheral Abominations_

 _Rampaging Unicorns_

 _Some sort of horrifying, unspeakable monstrosity born from the void between worlds, created for the sole purpose of causing Potter and those he loves misery_

* * *

Towards the end, I think I might've gotten a bit silly.

Anyway, according to Granger (Which should really have shorthand. ATG?)

Anyway, ATG, the cultists are aligned against Harry, and if they're active, then things might be getting worse.

At that point, Weasley butted in, claiming that we should keep an eye out for Slytherins, and people who hang out with Slytherins.

I think he managed to bury his eyebrows in his hair when I told him, plain and simple, that my dad is a Slytherin. Needs to be, to figure out how to kill as many weird monsters as he does. Bravery's great, but sometimes, you really do need a plan.

Oh hey, someone's knocking on the door.

* * *

Together, we've revised the statement: Keep an eye on _most_ Slytherins.

Malfoy was knocking on the door, but I have to say, Granger was on the ball this time.

She undid one ward, opened the door fully, asked the boy 'Are you planning on saying anything intelligent?'

And then slammed the door shut as soon as he opened his mouth.

Weasley's mouth is flat out open, and his breath sorta smells.

He's been stuttering for the past half-minute, and I can feel the train coming to a stop.

Maybe Ginny'll slap him to reboot him, or something. All I know, is it's not my problem.

* * *

So how was my summer…

Well, the biggest thing, is I'm no longer technically a bastard!

Turns out, what we were doing before was _technically_ line theft.

Because apparently, just being the daughter of the reanimated corpse of an heiress to an ancient house, isn't quite enough to have her title passed down.

Over the summer, both mum would tend to stumble in at around half-past-four in the morning, with the sort of dazed stagger that signified that _neither_ of them really wanted to be in

My bed is now currently on fire.

I'm not really complaining, but I thought I'd bring the topic up. It smells funny.

I mean, being who I am, I've already warded the important parts, keeping the flammability, but losing the degradation, but still. I'd put it out, but Ginny'd probably

* * *

 _Neither_ of them wanted to be in control at the moment.

But yeah, eventually they managed to convince the goblins (with money, lots of money) to convert the Cain line officially to a Matriarchal line, instate me as the Heiress (As apparently, while I'm technically applicable, neither mum is), and then open the vault again. We were able to pay it off with money inside of the vault already.

According to Mum, what eventually did it, was since she was never technically disowned after death (a normal practice, but sorta hard to do when everyone's dead) she had technically claimed her own title from herself via rite of conquest. She had to challenge herself for the title of Head of House, _lose_ , then declare the other equal via some rite.

She's also considered opening our _other_ vault, but **none** of us are sure whether it's a good idea.

Hell… Ginny's voice gets _incredibly_ shrill when she's furious. She'd be able to pull off a banshee impression, no problem.

* * *

My headboard now has a small crater in it. Ginny must've been practising her spells.

Right, so what was I going to talk about next?

Right.

The speech.

So

Quidditch this year is cancelled.

As probably expected, Ginny's not taking it well. I'm letting her vent, not even going to try to stop her.

All of the Quidditch practice she did over the summer, isn't exactly going to be seeing much use, is it.

I mean, I didn't expect her to actually scream in anguish when the Headmaster announced it, but man, she drew quite a few looks of amusement, annoyance, and even understanding.

She's finally slowing down now, having successfully killed a table, six chairs, and redecorating the walls in our room in a new, and unique fashion. I'm actually pretty amazed she's lasted this long.

I can also hear girls panicking on either side of us, because apparently no one besides me likes the smell of burning wood at 10:00 at night.

Anyway, rather than Quidditch, they're hosting some kind of tournament instead, and judging by the heavy-duty magical cup-artifact thing they were showing off, it's a reasonably-well known one. I don't even know what it's about,

but I am willing to bet that, one way or another, Potter's going to be involved.

I of course, did the smart thing, and bet with several people that Potter is going to be involved in the tournament. I'm down fifteen galleons in total, but I get a feeling that I gambled on an assured win.

Someone's knocking on our door, quite angrily, but Ginny can't hear it, what with her freak out, and I can't get up, because my bed's on fire.

I mean, it won't stop me, but I don't really give a damn, so I'm going with that excuse.

* * *

That was McGonnagal.

Turns out, someone went to go get her, and thus, she entered our dorm wearing a nightgown, saw my bed on fire, the furniture as ashes/the occasional pile of scrap wood, and Ginny huffing and puffing in exhaustion, and just dragged the two of us to her office, groaning about Weasleys.

Of course, not before glaring towards me.

I just shrugged, then gestured to the fire.

Anyway, she dragged the two of us over to her office more or less by the ears,

Oh, and she used a wind spell to extinguish my bed, of course.

and spent a couple of minutes yelling

Maybe closer to _forcefully explaining_

Yeah.

 _Forcefully explaining_ to Ginny that, while cancelling Quidditch was a travesty

(Turns out McGonnagal is just as much of a fanatic as Ginny, if the trophies on the case behind her desk are any indication)

There's really nothing anyone can do about it.

Unfortunately, the clock hit midnight, McGonnagal's forehead hit her hands, and that we were both in detention for the next three weeks, Ginny for causing a panic, and me for not doing much of anything, thereby causing the situation to become as bad as it did.

Can you say bullshit?

Anyway, we managed to get back to our dorm by 12:30, and while Ginny's still a bit furious, she knows neither of us is lucky enough to avoid further punishment and that she's probably better off sleeping on it.

Hopefully whatever disaster is coming this year will be big enough to distract her.

I wonder if humans normally think things like that.

* * *

 **V2**


	24. (Y3, P2) Adapting

**Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Classes are back in session. Unfortunately, I've been sorta busy, and it's been two days before I've been able to stop and write.

Honestly, I'm pretty happy with my class choices this year: should definitely be more interesting than the last.

Let's start with the more exciting ones first.

The DADA teacher this year is potentially the _most_ suspicious looking man I've ever seen. He also looks like the sort of person that, if you had a problem, you call immediately. Not because they are good people, no, but because they get the job **done**. And then you call in a team of about fifteen mages to start cleaning up the rubble.

He goes by the name Mad-Eye Moody. He walked and talked like a serial killer's worst nightmare. I fully expected him to start rambling about ' _The War_ ', and how he did ' _Horrible, horrible things. Things man is not meant to know_ '.

Note to self. Cut down on the amount of movies I watch during the summer.

I mean, this poor bastard looks like he's been shredded apart by magic, had what was left of his body pulped and mixed with broken glass, and then the mix was hastily beaten back into the vague facsimile of a man by a gorilla.

He's definitely got at least three instances of pretty serious necrosis going on, if the smell of rotting flesh is anything to go on. He's got a magical eye where his left would normally be, a peg leg, three fake fingers, and a face even his mother would be unable to love. His eye spent more or less the entire class spinning around like a windmill in a hurricane. I think it has connectivity issues.

Not to mention that his magical signature is _extremely_ messed up: it honestly feels like he's being held together by someone else's magic. His current form, if you even call it that, isn't entirely compatible with the magic beneath. I've seen him drink a potion from a flask several times. I'm willing to bet that it's a healing or stabilizing potion of some sort.

Besides the fact he looks like a demon slayer, and an _effective and experienced_ one at that, he's definitely miles ahead, combat wise. We entered the classroom directly into an ambush, where he fired into the crowd from cover.

To put things into perspective, I was so surprised by the ambush, that I wasn't able to feign falling over from the Stunning Spell correctly. It was only after the second barrage that I wised up and fell over until he started dispelling people. I definitely felt the spell too: first one was enough to stagger me, second one was enough to make my vision swim.

He then revived us all, basically flat out stated that if we're not on our toes, we're going to all die horrific, murder-y deaths, and then began immediately launched into casting and combat drills.

He also said, more or less that his eye is able to penetrate any magical illusion.

While staring at me. Well, his good eye was staring into the crowd. His magical eye was staring at me.

Considering how he didn't kill me on the spot, I'm just going to say that his eye can't penetrate a semi-transmutation, and pat myself on the back for not dying, first class of the year.

Go me.

Anyway, the ambush served a decent second use: it knocked Ginny down a peg, and she's back to being reasonably calm. Being destroyed that badly tends to do that to a person.

Next on the list of interesting classes was Ancient Runes. Teacher's name is Babbling, no joke. Luckily, she knows her stuff.

Sadly, we're not going directly into Infernal or Deep runes: we're sticking to standard Egyptian and Greek for the first couple of months.

In addition, we're using some bastardized number system, which is still counts like the Latin base-ten system, but it just uses different symbols for the numbers themselves. You'd think they'd use a base-seven or base-thirteen instead.

First assignment was essentially 'draft an array for a small defensive ward.'

My response, was a five-point runic circle consisting of _Protect, Slow, Weaken, Magic, Hunger_ , a more-or-less standard magic-draining ward.

Wouldn't do much to an adult spellcaster, but it'd slow a student down, for sure.

Hopefully we'll start getting into real wards soon enough.

I can't wait before I can start filling circles with _Pargon_ runes.

That'll be funny, to say the least. Assuming I don't blow myself up, or summon some unspeakable horror. That's definitely a possibility when working with Pargon runes.

Potions, on the other hand, is about the same as last year: we're again given a couple of ingredients, vague instructions, and left to our own, extremely dangerous, devices. Snape's not too great at explaining, so I've basically spent a couple of weeks over the summer learning as much potioncraft as I can.

Ginny's figured out by now that her best chances at passing are to try and do whatever I'm doing. In exchange, she's giving me copies of her History notes, but I apparently still owe her one. I don't care. You can't _pay_ me to deal with that ghost.

We're with the Slytherins this year, and thus the amount of thrown ingredients has increased, respectively.

Snape once again sauntered his way over to me once the class started, and once again began grilling me, right when I was in the middle of a rather difficult step of mixing

Right. It was a hair restorative potion. I don't know what he'll be doing with this much botched/shoddily crafted hair restorative, and frankly, I don't really want to know.

Hair restorative, and again the questions began. It wasn't exactly fun having to answer, while also making sure I didn't burn the damn cauldron. Or y'know, overcharge it with magic. That'd also be bad.

While I watched, he reached into my bag, and pulled out the new reinforced-plastic carrying case I picked up over the summer. He hastily unlatched it to slowly pull out each item within, smirking wider with each extracted item.

It was actually pretty funny to watch, as I had chosen the case for two real reasons: it was sturdy, and it had an over-powered space expansion charm on it that I was quite happy to abuse. As such, that little case was better stocked than it had any right to being.

I was asked about whether I had replaced several of my more perishable first aid supplies, (I had), but also why, in god's name, I was carrying around a pound-and-a-third of sealed muggle Swiss Military Chocolate.

Yeah, as if I'm going to use anything less than the heavy-duty crap if we run into Dementors again. Plus, it's by definition a good emergency ration. We picked up a good seven pounds of it from an army surplus store when we were in Switzerland this summer: the rest of it was placed into storage for emergency use/restocking.

Anyway, the interrogation took a bit longer than last time, what with my new chocolate, antiseptic mixes, and the two rather large bottles of olive oil-and-sulphur-based rash salve I was eyeing up by the end of the class.

I really do need to thank Professor Lupin for that suggestion, by the way, the stuff works bloody miracles.

I ended up being quietly awarded two points, before Snape immediately turned to the back of the classroom, and took five from someone else. Apparently, someone was mixing their potion with the wrong end of the spoon.

I'd have turned around to check it out myself, but I was too busy bottling mine, while simultaneously trying to figure out what exactly Ginny had done to hers.

I'm pretty sure she just made it activate too easily, if the hairy spoon she removed from the mix was any indication.

Ah well, if we grab some sturdy enough cardboard, we can brew ourselves a new throw rug.

* * *

Ginny just got back from History. I, being me, chose to instead write in my diary. Since History is the last class of the day for us today...

Judging by the look on her face, I missed absolutely nothing of value. She handed me her sparse notes with a groan, and then collapsed into her bed. I think I'll wake her up in an hour or so. Even though she looks comfortable, I don't think she wants to sleep in her robes.

So a bit of info about the situation:

It only took a little bit of explanation earlier to convince her that, whatever this tourney is, Potter's going to be involved.

I mean, her reasoning was a little bit different than mine, but either way, we're in agreement about this.

Anyway, besides the tournament, I've finally received something close to a real explanation from Ginny about the severity of her little freak-out. She had been hedging her bets last year when she selected her courses, and chosen relatively few electives. She expected to devote most of her time to Quidditch.

And now, with Quidditch being cancelled, she has far too much spare time, and not much to do with it.

I'm

Goddammit. I'm going to need to keep an eye on what she's doing: if she starts brewing Love Potions…

Well, if her brewing is any indication, I'd be more worried for fatal side effects, rather than it actually doing what it's intended to do.

Last thing we want is for her to start brain-damaging people.

Well, it's getting late.

Since I'm now officially in Ancient Runes, I finally have an excuse to practice carving runes in things. Thus, I've gathered a bunch of chunks of wood, which I plan on attempting to enchant over the next while.

Hopefully, by the end of the year, I'll be able to start enchanting my robes and tools. I don't really have any real expectations, though.

Will write more tomorrow. Charging runes makes me tired. Hopefully I won't blow myself up.

* * *

Herbology has finally reached the point where I'm able to care. The plants this year are sorta weird, sorta dangerous, but for the life of me, I still can't remember their names.

Either way, I got sent to the hospital wing when a particularly-uppity plant decided to snap my wrist with one of its vines. It was a lot stronger than I thought it'd be.

It wasn't easy having to explain the wrist's complete recovery by the time I arrived at the hospital wing, but the medical kit certainly helped get rid of some of the suspicion. I merely had to blame using a few of my healing creams on it, which was supported by the fact that I had actually _used_ my supplies on it.

I _knew_ carrying it around would be good for something.

Anyway, I ended up sitting in the wing for about ten minutes, before I was cleared to go back to my dorm.

Stupid plant.

Transfiguration has finally reached living-to-nonliving, which honestly unnerves me way more than it should. Do the living creatures feel it? We haven't started it yet, and probably won't till mid-spring, but really

Summoning living creatures from non-living objects makes sense. I've done it, in fact.

But there's just something wrong about temporarily killing things for a transformation.

But wouldn't botching the transmutation cause more pain?

I don't know.

Honestly, I don't want to know.

It's just… it's sorta horrifying to imagine: I keep mentally associating that kind of magic with soul-traps and sealing magic.

Okay

I will **never** mention that connection to Ginny.

I guess I'll just keep going.

Charms is just more of the same, but honestly, it's sorta… unfocused.

Between the occasional combat spell, a majority of it is utility, but there's defense magic, anti-curses….

It just feels weird to be as jostled around as it is.

Maybe if they split it into different classes it'd be easier to do.

Speaking of disorganized, Ancient Magic is both miles ahead, and miles behind Charms.

Flitwick was also teaching this course, but… well…

The curriculum was a bit idiotic.

We were given a couple of old, heavily-censored texts, and told to examine them, find a spell that has fallen out of use, and give a reason when, and why the spell fell out of use.

And by heavily censored, I mean large portions of the texts are flat-out missing.

I am willing to bet quite an amount that it was the censored portions that were worth learning.

As is, I ended up just researching a rather inefficient precursor to the Knockback Jinx, which ended up being dropped some time in the Middle Ages because it was nearly impossible to aim.

Reasonably strong, pretty efficient, but an absolute mess to prevent friendly fire with. The only reason it was ever used, was because it was extremely effective against people on horses.

Oh, and it was terrible on the wand too: it was designed to use with a metal staff.

I doubt I'll ever get any real use from the class anyway: it's just there as an excuse, in case I need to start pulling out any of _my_ spells.

Finally, Astronomy

Worthless. Just worthless.

Huh?

* * *

Ginny stopped by, rather out of breath. Turns out, she sprinted up from the front gate: a couple of fifth, fourth, and third-year Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were getting antsy about the lack of Quidditch, and had begun organizing a pick-up game.

Lacking a personal broom herself, Ginny had quickly signed up, before running up to me to borrow my broom.

Needless to say, I lent her it. Hopefully, that'll help some of her stress, and it'll help curb some of her destructive impulses.

Actually, I might just give her that broom and get another. If I do, I'm going to have to send a letter to mom at some point.

I think I'll go enchant some more wooden discs.

* * *

Goddammit!

Note to self. Do not put _Fire_ and _Area_ runes beside each other, unless there's a containment rune too.

* * *

Ginny just came back, more or less pumping her arms in triumph. Turns out her team had stomped their opponents pretty damn badly, thus inadvertently condemning me to death via horrible, horrible victory dance.

Her biggest fear right now, is that the teachers will find out, and shut the little club down.

I couldn't help but smile back at her. I don't really see a problem with it, and I don't think the teachers will mind much either.

The year's looking up!

But why do I keep feeling this sense of impending doom?


	25. (Y3, P3) Of Fire

_I'm thinking of going over my y1 write-ups, so that they're more story-consistent. Expect some small changes in the next while._

 _Nothing major, but enough to standardize (shift towards the lower end) Aura's power level, and set the stage for some other things._

 _Note: This chapter is much later than it should be. I hit a pretty big snag, but I eventually got it done._

 _I'd apologise, but let's be honest here: I'm writing this for my own enjoyment. I'll take all the time in the world if I need to._

* * *

 **Through A Half-Breed's Eyes**

I

I might've attracted a little bit more attention today than I should've.

Turns out, one of the lessons I missed in Defense last year (when I was trapped in the hospital wing), was Salamanders.

I might've walked into the classroom and

Well, when we were supposed to 'neutralize' the salamanders the teacher summoned by slowing them down with spells, then extinguishing their host-flame

and

Uh

Screw it, not like anyone's going to read this, anyway.

They were absolutely adorable.

I'm never going to admit it, but the little lizards pretty much swarmed me at once, knocked me over, and began trying to climb on top of me. About half of them were successful, and I'm happier than I've ever been about my choice in fire-proof robes.

Five minutes into the lesson, and Moody (the name of the psychotic-looking DADA teacher) was grumbling about 'bloody Veela', whatever those are. I think I'll look into them later: anything that makes my cover better, or more believable, is a good thing.

Ginny had joined me on the floor, but for a completely different reason. Rather than being tackled by Salamanders, she had lost her balance once she had begun laughing at me, and had fallen to the ground, still giggling away. The other students were just blinking in my general direction, either used to me being weird, or just not caring. From what I can tell, about three quarters of the little lizards were on me, and the rest were just wandering around. It was at this time that two lizards had climbed my robes, and had taken up position on my face.

I don't know if it's my affinity to fire, or if it's something about my blood, but Salamanders, and other creatures of flame tend to be… well, neutral towards me or better. I've even considered raising a baby dragon at one point (They're pretty cute when they're young), and while I could probably pull it off (with some help from mom), they eat too much for it to really be feasible. Plus, yknow. They get pretty damn massive once they become yearlings.

I guess that's why the Headmaster's Phoenix just sits in my hair, rather than claw my eyes out, like any other dark creature.

Actually, I think I finally have an excuse to summon Cinder. A blind man could see that I find Salamanders awesome, and if I can 'happen' upon the incantation to summoning a few, who's to say that one wouldn't stick around longer than normal?

So I guess all I need to do is fabricate an excuse for knowing the spell.

Actually, do I even need to do that? I can just wave my wand around, babble nonsense, and then do the summoning silently.

I'd do it right now, but Ginny's in History right now, and I don't think she'd appreciate it if she came back to a Salamander in our room, even a tame one like Cinder.

* * *

Rude.

I had only taken three steps from my bed towards Ginny, before being told, quite loudly: "No."

I didn't even get to say what I was thinking!

I mean, she was wearing a smile the entire time, but seriously.

Stupid Ginny. Ruining my fun.

Oh well, I guess I'll ask her again tomorrow. I've got a wooden disc I need to practice fire resistance wards on.

It took asking several times, promising to help her with her potions work from now until her seventh year, **and** that I cover for her if she ever needs help, but Ginny's agreed.

Basically, Ginny's terms are this:

I go borrow an owl, and Owl-order in a terrarium.

Then, I need to enchant the terrarium with fire-resistance runes, which she'll then test with her burning charms.

Then, and only then, can I summon my pet.

Sounds good to me, I have something else I need to order as well: I can't have Ginny borrowing my broom all of the time, can I?

Maybe I'll give it to her as a Christmas present.

* * *

Eugh. Well, the terrarium is going to be sent over in about a week, and I've finally got the rune array drafted, and strong enough to soak an overpowered Burning Charm nine times out of ten.

The broom, on the other hand, will arrive just before Christmas. Don't want Ginny to be getting any hints about her present.

Also: I did some research today.

Yes, I was actually in the library. So sue me. I even bumped into Granger in there: she has her own little table with a personalized, stylized, and enchanted nametag. It's actually pretty hilarious.

Anyway, my options were to either bug the librarian, or ask her. And after about three seconds of thought, I knew which one was the better choice.

It took less than a second for Granger to direct me to the 'Magical Creatures' section.

So!

Veela, are…

Well, to be honest, they seem almost like demons. Pyrodaemons, to be specific. Although they're a lot more avian than Pyrodaemons. Frankly, the feel I get for them is almost like if an Incubus bred with a Harpy, and then the Incubus went and died.

Maybe not so much any more, but I'd not be surprised if, at one point, they were a demonic bloodline, but slowly it became diluted. Perhaps their patron/matron was disrupted, or they broke away. It's happened before: you can generally trace such things back to wherever you find mages with weird magics/rituals.

The book (De Creatura II) says they are always female, and generally retain some Veela traits until about the third (worst case), or fifth (best case) generation. Of course, the traits weaken every generation, and there are always some extreme cases where more or less traits are present.

Ability-wise, they're more or less all extremely inclined towards fire, with a rather large resistance to it (Check!), have enough affinity to wandlessly hurl fireballs (Check!), are extremely attractive (uhm… Check? I might need to try and mess with a couple of boys' minds to make sure), and have a secondary, more monstrous form they can shift into, when in danger (Sorta Check.)

Unfortunately, that's where the similarities end.

They've got feathered wings, which is pretty easy to tell apart from my smooth, bat-like wings. Not just that, but they usually don't quite have the level of control over their forms that I have: there's no record of them being able to pull out their wings, at least without fully shifting. I technically _could_ cover my wings in feathers, but even then, the shape's wrong, and it'd…

Well, it'd be itchy, uncomfortable, and probably hurt my maneuverability.

Even worse, it's not just their wings that are avian: their faces resemble harpies more than mine. Whereas I look at least mostly human (save for the small horns curling around the outside of my ears, my mouth, and my grey skin), a true-form or shifted Veela has a beak, hawk-like eyes, and is feathered. Feathers tend to be greyish-white, but a few black Veela exist.

Toughness-wise, I'm miles ahead: they've got some fire-resistance, but they don't have the massive magic-resistance that I have, nor do they have the regeneration. Their descendants do have a relatively higher resistance against mental magic than a full-human mage does, though.

If push comes to shove, though, I might be able to bluff being a sub-species.

Yeah, sub-species makes sense: they're more or less considered citizens over in France, with equal rights and everything. Much more than over here. Either way, I can more or less say that it wouldn't be awkward to call a Veela my cousin.

Unfortunately, since they're pretty much universally accepted over there, people can generally recognise a Veela. Over here, where we've got bigots, idiots, and people who've never seen dark creatures in their lives, it's much easier to pretend to be something else. Hell, the book's information on Boggarts was hilariously off.

Granger gave me a weird look when I finished the section of the book, but who am I to care. Even if she finds what I was reading about, it's still a nicer, less painful red herring than the actual truth.

Last thing: I overheard on my way back up to the tower that they're going to be starting the tournament draw soon.

* * *

Quote of the day: "That's it? Seriously?"

I finally got the terrarium set up, and wasted almost no time summoning Cinder. Ginny, of course, blinked at me when I spoke the incantation. Not in Bad Latin, of course. Infernal is generally more stable for summonings.

Now, Ginny's more or less just staring at Cinder, waiting for her to either A: lunge at her, B: escape, or C: die.

Neither of those three things are going to happen.

I guess I should probably explain that I used a different spell to summon her, one that doesn't have the same restrictions as the usual Salamander spell.

Besides, _I'm_ the host flame, here.

I should also try and convince Ginny to pet the Salamander. It's not like Cinder will burn her.

Cinder's just lounging around on the pile of powdered charcoal I put in the terrarium right now, but considering how I've put her on standby, that's about what was expected. Going to need to feed her occasionally, though. I should see if I can't get my hands on some Potassium Chloride. Last time I fed her that, she turned purple for a week.

She has been sending me the occasional pulse of deep amusement, mostly due to Ginny's paranoia.

Oh well, having an active, explainable summon will help, the next time something horrible happens to Potter.

* * *

I won fifteen galleons today.

Also, totally called it. Not going to really be able to use Cinder, but still.

We were called down today to greet the other two participating schools.

To be honest, I have no idea why the participating schools were not generally known until now. Seems sorta stupid/suspicious in hindsight.

Anyway, it took about thirty minutes, and the two, extremely pretentious-looking entrances were over and done with.

The two schools are Durmstang, and Beauxbatons, by the way.

Durmstang, from what I can tell (half rumors, half previous research) is a dark-aligned school. They've got relatively relaxed opinions towards dark magic, and tend to focus upon combat magic, over utility like here. Unfortunately, they are extremely secretive, violently xenophobic, and tend towards viciousness.

We'd briefly considered Durmstang, but, well, the whole _combat training_ thing looks good on paper, but the school doesn't have the same smokescreen of bullshit, political intrigue, and blatant idiocy to cover me, as we have here. With Potter around, no one's even questioned my weirdness. They're too busy running in terror from whatever the monster-of-the-week is.

Beauxbatons is rather neutral, and has a lot of non-human students. Unfortunately, certain types of non-humans remained discriminated against. Demons, for example. (not like there's any sentient demons that they'd bump into, of course.) It's also an all-girls school, which isn't a problem for me, but I can only imagine the amount of gossip I'd have to endure.

Speaking of non-human, I detected something familiar about a good dozen of the Beauxbatons students. They feel like echoes of flame, actually. Perhaps Veela-blooded?

I'll need to poke around later, see if I can't make contact. It'd be nice to talk to another non-human, even if I need to lie about what exactly I am.

Then came the draw.

First out of the cup is Viktor Krum, a big-name… uhh

Somebody.

Representing Durmstang.

I don't actually know what he does, but judging from the fangirls and fanboys, he's some sort of crazy athlete. Probably Quidditch, actually.

Next up was Fleur Delacour, chosen of Beauxbatons, who was pretty obviously a Veela-blood.

I don't think I'll be able to talk to her, what with being a champion. I"ll need to speak to another, less busy, Veela.

To my surprise, the champion of Hogwarts was not Potter, like I expected, but rather Cedric Diggory, a relatively high-profile Hufflepuff. Decent guy, if my encounters with him are to believed.

Of course, this is the time when the Twins approached me, hands out, wanting their money.

I could only kick my legs up to the (still bare) table, lean back, and tell them to watch.

The three Headmasters/Headmistresses turned towards us, and had begun the mandatory ceremonial speeches, when the Goblet behind them exploded one final time, expelling a final choice.

I of course, lifted an arm, and began slowly patting Potter on the back (he was about two seats down, so I had to lean). I might've asked him what he did to piss of God. There were a few seconds of silence, as all three of the School Bigwigs stared at the fourth sheet of paper, before they blurted out Potter's name, much to the shocked silence of the gathered crowds, and the violent cursing of the Twins.

Anyway, with the foregone conclusion out of the way, I hastily collected my two galleons from the gobsmacked Twins, and began working my way around the table, collecting my payout from the other students.

They were so in shock, that they really didn't say much when they paid me. Pretty sad actually. It's only an ancient, heavily-enchanted goblet which chooses through goddamn fire. For centuries, it's been given sheets of paper, and it's given back three. It's not like any of that would be enough to stop fate, luck, or even God from kicking Potter in the groin.

'Tradition?' says the Cup, 'No, fuck that: there's a Potter over there. As a magical thing, I must do my best to kill it, to the full extent of my inanimate ability.'

I'm honestly interested in whether or not he attracts falling meteorites. Might need to convince him to wear a hat.

Anyway, by the time the ceremony was over, the students had begun recovering, and had briefly began accusing me of rigging the Cup. I of course countered this by loudly asking if they've ever seen something dangerous, that **hasn't** immediately tried to kill Potter. Seriously! It's an inanimate object, but I don't think even THAT'S immune to the curse. There was still some grumbling, but a majority of them just left me alone.

Anyway, we then headed up to our dorms, Ginny looking a lot more morose than I did. She of course made me swear that I wasn't involved (I wasn't), before running ahead, perhaps in hopes of finding a way to help Potter.

I'd have joined her, but I was stopped in the hall by a Beauxbatons student.

Not a Veela, this one was just human.

Anyway, she asked me if Hogwarts was _always_ like this.

I only shrugged back.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." I said. "No, it's not always like this."

"Usually it's goddamn cold, too."


	26. (Y3, P4) Investigation

_Eugh. Been busy lately, plus writers block._

 _Will probably go through old chapters to rewrite portions I don't like._

 _Probably not going to have a chapter up on Monday: want to get back in the swing of things._

* * *

 **Through a Half-Breed's Eyes**

Things have been an absolute mess lately.

Potter's jumping at every shadow, and even hexed some poor idiot.

Of course, the idiot was trying to be smart and snuck up on him, but still.

Meanwhile, Ginny's been killing time by reading everything she can about the Triwizard Tournament. From what I can tell, she's trying to figure out how to help, without causing anyone to be disqualified.

I've merely been moving about, doing my own thing. Occasionally, I've turned eye to the skies above Potter, wondering when the asteroid will finally hit and kill him.

I mean, that's probably not going to happen.

Probably.

Anyway, it's only been three days since the big drawing, and the Anti-Potter lynch mob is already burning strong. I think I might've dissuaded about a third of the Gryffindors with my rampant betting (They're going after me instead), but sooner or later, the ones that _are_ chasing me are going to get bored.

So yeah, besides the usual, there's been a lot more activity on the outskirts of the castle as well.

They're building some sort of arena for the tournament just on the edge of the forest: pretty large, reasonably sturdy

It honestly resembles a roman Colosseum. I'm hoping the trial's not direct combat.

They're also building a different enclosure, out of stone. Enchanted stone, if the magical presence I've been able pick up from the materials is correct.

Classes certainly haven't eased up either: I had to demonstrate a runic array earlier today

and

well.

lost concentration just long enough to blow myself up.

It wasn't a very big explosion: no one was hurt, except for me.

Luckily, it was written off as 'reasonably minor', so I was given a flask of potion at the hospital wing, and was told to walk it off.

(flask went directly into my bag to look at later, by the way. I can't use the damn thing. To confirm, it's nothing but a minor burn salve. I checked. Seems like an interesting potion, might try and learn how to make it later.)

* * *

I might've accidentally started another rumor.

I honestly didn't mean to this time. It just happened.

Anyway, I managed to catch one of the Veela-blooded students (her name was Monique) in the hallway earlier, and started asking her questions.

At first, all I managed to do was make her extremely uncomfortable.

I only managed to convince her to talk to me, after I manifested a ball of fire in my hand. (My fire's actually a bit darker than the usual Veela orangish-red flame. We did a side-by-side comparison, not too long into the discussion).

My explanation was that my bloodline wasn't in contact with other Veela for a long, long time, and we might've adapted differently than the other, more common Veela varieties.

She bought the story, and we found a deserted classroom to talk in. We passed a few known gossips on the way, though, which immediately led to said gossips running off, like the world was about to end.

I'm hoping the rumor is something relatively benign, like "Aura is a Veela-blood", and not something stupid, incriminating, and embarrassing.

But yes, we spent about an hour talking back and forth, talking about what her breed of Veela was like, and what they could do.

Monique is considered middle-of-the-road as far as inherent power in a Veela-blooded: Fleur, the Beauxbatons champion, is about three steps above her, but she's not lacking in power by any means.

Apparently, pretty much all of the Veela-bloods have the allure, three-quarters have the fire, and half are able to manifest a Veela form.

Speaking of which, Veela fire is definitely not natural fire. It's not hellfire, either. I'd assume it's somewhere in between.

We didn't go so far to see if we could burn one another, but from what I could tell, I'd be able to withstand her flame quite handily.

She said that she'd stick around for the rest of the year, or at least as long as the tournament is going on.

Maybe I should try and introduce her to Cinder.

* * *

I've got an update on the tournament: rumor has it that there's a Ball upcoming later into the year, which is gated to fourth-years and higher. Apparently third years are allowed in if they have a fourth-year partner.

I haven't said anything to Ginny quite yet. I'm quite afraid of what she'll try to do, once she gets the idea into her head.

I should probably give Potter a good two-three weeks to prepare before I sic Ginny on him.

* * *

Dragons.

They've brought in dragons.

Luna was the one who brought it to my attention.

I was in the middle of throwing together a batch of Shrinking Solution in one of the many unused classrooms, when in barges Luna. She was definitely excited, and I only was able to understand what she was trying to say after about a minute.

Of course, once she got her message across, I immediately threw a neutralizer into my cauldron, and took off running behind her. I wasn't going to miss the dragons for anything.

Anyway, they brought in four relatively large dragons, all huge, nasty-looking things.

On the plus side, gladiatorial combat is out, since there's no way in hell any single person, no matter the school or training, would be able to take any of the four down by themselves.

Though I have no idea what they will use the dragons _for_ then.

Who knows, maybe they're for something else.


	27. (Y3, P5) Panic

_Eughhhh. Writers block for days._

 _I swear, writing gets harder the closer you get to a big build-up._

 _I'm probably still not going to update regularly, but hopefully I'll start making forward progress again, rather than just grinding to a halt like I've done this week._

* * *

Well.

That certainly just happened.

Potter, against all odds, managed to take an egg from an angry dragon.

Golden egg, mind you, not like it would make a different: bastard nearly melted his broom doing so. If he wasn't in a place with a fully stocked medical wing, he'd be looking at a pretty solid burn for a few weeks.

As is, he'll be fine if he rubs some dirt in it.

All in all, a good showing, but nothing to write home about. Now convincing Ginny to go to sleep before midnight, on the other hand, is something that I'll need to work quite hard on.

* * *

Oh dear god.

Well, I'm screwed.

Like, incredibly screwed.

Ginny, against all odds, has discovered that there is going to be a Yule ball this year.

I can tell, because she just burst into the room, grasped my neck, and started begging/threatening me to make her perfumes/love potions/etc.

I didn't have any perfumes, and honestly, it'd be a cold day in hell

like, colder than Scotland. Which is already pretty goddamn cold.

before I ever even consider brewing a love potion. I don't even want to be an accessory to the drugging of Potter.

Besides, I have no idea how, but he'd find a way to take revenge, and honestly, I don't want to find out just what he'll do.

But yes, between the inelegant blubbering about 'not being pretty enough', the sheer panic of not having a decent dress to wear, and _also_ the fact that the panic over the tournament still hasn't faded, and I foresee an uncomfortable next few days.

Cinder's started laughing at about ten, and hasn't stopped since. It was, miraculously, unsettling enough to snap Ginny out of it for a good five minutes, but the shock quickly faded.

I'm going to take a break from here.

* * *

I reconnected with Luna today.

In a desperate ploy to avoid the still-rampaging Ginny, I spent pretty much the entire day talking to her instead.

Sure, it was sorta hard to decode the way she speaks, but man, anything's better than what I've been forced to listen to.

I think I managed to handle everything Ginny was saying, up until she somehow started complaining about being flat, and had begun to wonder if there was a spell to fix that. At that point, it was an incoming downward spiral, and I just left the room, not-quite-running for my life.

Anyway

When walking around with Luna, I ended up bumping into Monique as well, and from there, the conversation drifted towards being a Veela-blood. I, having already been through that line of conversation myself, was able to answer about half of the questions.

Not like I needed to, but it felt good to actually _know_ things.

The entire time, Luna was scribbling away at a little clipboard, after having claimed that she was doing the questions for her father's newspaper. Neither of us really had any objection, as long as we were able to see what she had written when she was done.

I actually didn't know Luna's family ran a newspaper.

Anyway, as a thank you (or perhaps because I was looking at her funny when she mentioned that she was writing for a newspaper, Luna handed me one of her old copies (dated about a week and a half ago), told me to read up, and skipped away.

I think me and Monique both shrugged, before heading our separate ways.

Right now, I'm writing in the common room, as I don't particularly want to go back to our dorms quite yet.

Maybe in an hour or so.

* * *

 **PARGON-PROTECTION-PARGON-ABSORPTION-PARGON-ANTIMAGIC-PARGON RING IS UNSTABLE.**

 **DO NOT USE.**

 **SERIOUSLY DON'T**

* * *

This is actually pretty interesting.

Once again, I'm writing in the dorms. I had to help dispose of a vat of who-the-hell-knows earlier, which I couldn't even begin to identify the ingredients of.

But that's not really relevant.

What is relevant, is Luna's paper.

Sure, on the surface, it's pretty worthless. Gimmicks about random creatures, lots of speculation. A few of them I don't recognise, but the magical world is weird, and I'm sure they could potentially exist.

It was just enough to make me shrug and work on runes again (which, to my luck, didn't blow up this time).

It was when I looked back to the paper, mage sight still active.

The paper was glowing. And not the usual magic-items glow.

It had, well

It had text, glowing brightly. Legible text, at that. It was upside down from the regular paper, and was bright enough to bleed out the rest of the text.

This particular portion was still gossip, but it was a lot more interesting in content: rather than just creatures, it had information on ley lines, rune arrays, or even some old, gimmicky spells which could be adapted.

I'll need to see if I can't get my hands on more copies of the paper: maybe something in one of them will help me get over the Patronus barrier.

At least, I can hope. I still am not feeling particularly confident regarding that one.

* * *

That was incredibly disturbing. The Defense teacher demonstrated the 'Unforgivables' Lupin hinted about last year.

A torture curse, a mind-control curse, and a death curse.

Yikes.

Even worse, he implied that he was _upset_ that he was unable to cast the mind-control curse on students below year four.

At least without their consent.

I, of course being overconfident, volunteered, assuming my magic resistance would protect me.

Yeah, no luck. What saved me, was the language barrier.

Turns out, my ability to speak English is linked to my free will, and when put under the Imperius, the connection is temporarily severed. I don't know how long that particular effect lasts, but I'm still feeling it, a good hour later.

So rather than listening to his commands, I just sat there, silently unable to do anything, as he spoke vaguely commanding-sounding words which had no meaning to me. I stood there listening for about ten seconds, before the teacher started scowling, and I started looking around, apparently attempting to find a way to parse his commands.

So yeah, they can't turn me against my friends (unless they know Infernal, at which point it doesn't really matter, since they'd be able to use standard binding spells anyway), but they _can_ effectively force me immobile and useless.

As I walked back to my seat (which took a while, since it took a minute to regain control of my body), I could hear the murmuring, but again, I couldn't understand any of it.

And then I sat back down beside Ginny, who was looking at me rather concerned.

Yeah, I don't think I reassured her at all when I answered back to whatever she was saying in Infernal.

I'll need to apologise to her later. Probably when the headache stops.

* * *

Day fifteen of the Ginny-pocalypse. After the whole Imperius debacle, she's pretty much begun to calm down, but is still chewing her fingernails about whether or not Potter will ask her to the ball. I think it's beginning to transition from fear to just straight up existential terror.

I have two options. One, I can fix this goddamn problem.

Oh wait, did I mean two? I meant one. I've never been a planner. Besides, isn't that what Gryffindors do?

I can't handle this any more.

I'm fixing this now.

* * *

Potter, after our little heart-to-heart, finally worked up the courage to ask Ginny to the ball at lunch.

He of course glanced at me partially in fear when we he came over, but that was expected. I might've been too blunt, but that's the only way to get through to someone like him.

Ron Weasley, being the closest older brother, immediately started to sputter the cliche 'That's my sister!', but was silenced with my throat-slashing motion.

Hopefully now Ginny'll stop destroying everything in our rooms with her panic.

* * *

Weasley

I can't believe

he actually did that

It's fucking hilarious

I was halfway through a bowl of rather strong curry (It was soup night, and there was everything from lentil soup, to pea soup. Amusingly enough, Parvati was the only other girl to go for the curry, which was pretty damn lethal)

I can't

I just can't

"I know that my sister's going with my best friend, and I know you probably don't have a date, so I should probably go with _her_ best friend, right? Would serve her right."

It wasn't the fact he said that. I fully expected him to say something that dumb.

It was the complete, deadpan look he was wearing, as if he assumed he was doing everything perfectly.

I looked him straight in the eye for about twenty seconds, before I completely lost it and just started laughing maniacally.

I swear, I tried to stop, but I just **couldn't**.

I ended up collapsing into my bowl, and got a nice lungful of curry, which was rather loud, rather disgusting, and definitely would have hurt if I was a human.

And then he fucking nails it

Like, takes it to eleven.

I'm still face-down in the bowl of scalding soup, blowing bubbles as I forget stupid little things like 'remembering how to breathe'.

"So is that yes?"

How?

How the hell is someone this dumb?

I'm still laughing, and Ginny's laughing along with me. It's been three hours.

I think I just sat there, with my face in a bowl of curry, for five minutes, before someone (read, Ginny) helped me out of the bowl.

I only stopped laughing just long enough to loudly state 'no', before I fled the hall to wash my face.

According to Ginny, he honestly doesn't understand where he went wrong.

That might actually be the funniest part.

If he tries again, I might end up laughing myself into a coma.

* * *

No coma, sadly.

One of the boys must've talked to him, and told him just how badly he screwed up.

That'd definitely explain the sheepish looks he was giving me.

Anyway, it's mid-November, and the ball's mid-December.

If Ginny doesn't manage to find herself a set of dress robes by the ball, I'll just lend her mine. Not like I'll be needing them: I'm probably not going.

We're about the same size.

Yeah, I'll probably end up doing that.

* * *

One week from the ball. As expected, Ginny couldn't manage to get a decent enough dress, so I lent her my combat robes.

Yes, they're technically combat robes, but they're needlessly fancy, and heavily enchanted. You never know when you'll need them.

It was an attack of foresight that led me to grab Ginny by the shoulders, look her directly in the eye, and recite the following.

"You are not going to refer to him as 'The Boy Who' Lived. No matter who he is, no matter what he is, he wants to be known as Harry. You're going to the ball with Harry. Sure, he's goddamn awesome, but he doesn't want that fame. He wants a date, you want a date. Screw this up, and you're not getting another."

Or something to that tune.

Basically, I just told Ginny to treat him like a human, and that he's as shy as she is.

If not more. Hopefully, it'll help break the ice.

Otherwise we'll just have two awkward dolts standing around during the ball.

Honestly, I get a feeling that if she were to treat Potter as if he was a hero, then she'd do nothing more than force him to retreat into his shell.

I'm going to be lurking to the side the entire ceremony. It's too perfect of an opportunity to miss: perfect for an ambush.

Perhaps I'm becoming paranoid.

Perhaps I'm just beginning to understand this whole 'Constant Vigilance' thing that the Defence psychopath is spewing eternally.

* * *

 **V2**


	28. (Y3, P5, O1) The Ball

_Heh. This is a particularly long one._

* * *

He was terrified. He didn't know what to do. He could hear Ron loudly snoring beside him, and could only imagine the ticking of a clock fast approaching midnight.

What if he screwed up? Would they all laugh at him? Everyone expected so much, but…

No matter what they called him, no matter what they expected of him, he was only Harry, no more, no less.

A dance. He had to take a girl to a dance. Ron's sister, even!

Not like he had much choice on the matter. Her friend…

* * *

 _He was sitting alone in the common, working his way through a rather difficult Transfiguration problem. He was nearly done: his rabbit was nearly a hat, yet still hopped about occasionally._

 _He muttered the incantation, only to be cut off by a rather frustrated scream._

 _In stormed Ginny's blonde roommate, face frozen into a stare of murder. Ironically enough, it reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, after coming home from a particularly bad day at work._

 _Before he could properly flee, the approaching girl's face softened, no longer radiating malice, although her mouth never moved. Did she want something?_

 _Yet he could hardly believe what she would say._

 _"Look, you know Ginny, Weasley's sister?" she spoke, voice laced with annoyance._

 _Harry nodded back._

 _"Well, Ginny is a good friend of mine, and while she's apparently not brave enough to ask you to the ball herself, I'm going to lay it down for you: ask Ginny to the ball. Seriously, she has the world's worst crush on you, and will probably try and take it out on me if you ask out another girl."_

 _As he sputtered, the girl turned on her heel and began walking back upstairs, she spouted one last shout of 'insight'._

 _"If you're afraid of her saying no, don't be. I think it'll be harder to get her to stop squealing after you ask."_

 _With that, the girl ascended the stairs. About a minute later, there was an echoing slam of wood on stone._

* * *

It had taken a serious mustering of courage, but Harry had finally gone through with the advice, and had asked Ginny to the ball. As stated, she had immediately shouted a resounding yes, even going as far as to hug him, although she quickly flinched back after doing so, face crimson.

And now, eighteen hours from the ball, he sat, sleepless in his bed, wondering what would happen.

What if he ruined her night? Would she ever try to talk to him again? Would Ron?

What if he wasn't good enough? He was afraid, not some brave hero like everyone expected. He felt worthless, terrified, like a small child out of his depth.

What if she found out about the Dursleys? No one knew, not even Hermione or Ron.

Would anyone want to be near him, if they realized he was nothing more than garbage to his 'family'? Would they even trust him?

He slowly ran his fingers over each other, trying to calm himself.

He took a deep breath. It's only a dance, right? Nothing like taking down a Basilisk, or facing a hundred Dementors. He'd done those things, and survived.

Yet why did it feel so much worse?

* * *

It was eighteen hours from the ball, and Ginny lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Aura had long since fallen asleep: only the pale glow of her slumbering pet Salamander illuminated the otherwise pitch-black room.

She had a date with the Boy-Who-Lived! Or… Harry.

Aura had demanded that she refer to him as Harry during the date. But it felt so… strange to refer to him like that.

He was the Boy-Who-Lived, a hero, someone they wrote stories about! Someone they were still writing stories about!

And she was just Ginny Weasley, another nobody in a family full of nobodies.

What if she wasn't perfect? She had one chance at this, one chance to introduce herself, to show who she was. To leave a good impression.

She wasn't the prettiest girl: the Twins and Ron had pointed that out years ago. What did she have, to make herself interesting to her hero, to the boy she had crushed on for years?

She let out a shuddering breath.

What did she have over the girls in the years above her? She was a hothead, a spitfire… hardly a girly girl.

That's what the boys wanted, right? A girly girl that loves flowers and dresses, not some girl who lived on a farm who loved sports, and spell-casting, and fighting.

She was terrified. What if she wasn't good enough? Would he ever talk to her again? Would he even take her seriously? Or would she be seen as Ron's annoying little sister?

She hadn't even had a gown of her own: she was merely borrowing one of Aura's!

But would that even be enough?

She wasn't rich. She couldn't buy the things that the other girls could: she used hand-me-downs, refitted clothing. Patches upon patches, holding together old clothing.

Merely a princess of rags, if even that.

Another shuddering breath.

What would she say? How would she even try and start a conversation?

She shook her head as she closed her eyes.

Getting no sleep would not help matters, that's for sure.

She had survived a 'soul drain', as Aura had so dramatically put it, but why, oh why, did this feel worse?

* * *

"Mate, I'm sure you'll be fine. My sister's head over heels for you." spoke Ron, as Harry quickly donned his dress robes.

"That's not the problem!" exclaimed Harry. "The problem is I have no idea what I'm doing! What do I do?"

"Harry: if you're want to impress her, just talk about you. That's all she ever talks about, anyway." continued Ron.

"Since when did you become the romantic adviser anyway? Did you manage to get a date yourself?"

Ron's face turned to an annoyed frown. "Not really. After that whole muck-up with Ginny's friend, the girls are too busy laughing at me to answer me."

"Mate, that was pretty bad." smirked Harry. "She nearly drowned herself in her soup when you asked her. I'm amazed she stayed under as long as she did, that must be some pretty crazy lung-strength right there."

"Look, Harry," sputtered an exasperated, (and very red), Ron. "We can't all be super-duper people readers like you. Some of us have issues with that sort of thing. I'm more annoyed that Malfoy somehow found out, and is using that as an excuse to call me a poofter."

"Malfoy's Malfoy, we know that. He hasn't said anything worth listening to the entire four years we've known him, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon. Still, you can just ignore the ponce."

Harry fastened his final clasp.

'But why can't I ignore this?' he murmured.

* * *

" **Would you shut up, already?** " screamed Aura, as she fastened yet another button. "I get it, you're terrified. He's probably terrified too, and freaking out isn't going to do anything besides panic both of you."

"But what do I talk about? I hardly know him!" moaned Ginny.

"Then _fix_ that! Learn about him or something. I don't know, ask him about his day or something."

"But what if he thinks I'm shallow?"

"Then prove him goddamn wrong, I don't know." spoke Aura, hands spread apart in annoyance.

"What if he thinks I'm a loser?"

"Then it's his goddamn loss. Seriously, shut up so I can finish strapping you into this dress."

"How the hell do you even wear this thing? Seriously, it's way more flexible than I thought it'd be, but it's _heavy_. And why are we using the black one? I like the red one better!"

"Because if you blush while wearing the red one, you look like a bloody tomato. And that's not a good image to have. Now shut up, so we can get you ready."

"But I'm _scared_ " whined Ginny.

"Ginny, goddammit. You're scared. He's scared. Every. Damn. Person. Is. Scared. Are you a Gryffindor or not? I swear, if you spend the entire dance silent and awkward, I will mock you for this forever. I mean it, forever." all-but-shouted the blonde. "Now act like a bloody Gryffindor and summon some goddamn courage!"

"I'm a Gryffindor." muttered Ginny, as she wrung her hands. "I can do this."

There was one final shuffle of a button being threaded.

"There. Final strap is done. Go get him, tiger."

"I'm a Gryffindor. I can do this." she murmured, even as she stepped into the hallway.

* * *

He walked down the stairs in a daze.

What should he do? What should he say?

What if he messed up? Should he run? Should he apologise and hope she ignores it?

Who could ever want someone like the real him?

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that only the jolt of colliding with someone cleared his mind.

"Ooof!"

* * *

She walked down the stairs, mind ablaze with panic.

Should she have borrowed make-up? Would he notice?

What if she wasn't enough? Would he dump her for another, better girl? A girl who didn't live on a farm, raising chickens and whose family could barely make ends meet?

Who could ever want someone like the real her?

She walked forward, body on autopilot, until a sudden collision jarred her back to her senses.

"Ooof!"

* * *

Of all the people to bump into!

Harry could feel his ears burning as he raised himself back up to his feet.

And of course, the person he bowled over, was Ginny, his date.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' he mentally beat himself, but amusingly enough, this ended up accidentally summoning mental images of Dobby, well, being Dobby to the surface of his mind.

It took a rather substantial effort to shake that image free.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as he lowered a hand to Ginny.

Now that she was on her feet, he finally had his first good look at his date.

Wow.

She was wearing a sleek, black, flowing dress, with a noticeable lack of exposed skin, save for an area of bare flesh centered around the small of the back. Covering the robes were dozens of flowing lines of runes in golden thread, which drew the eyes as they seemingly flickered like a reflection in a flowing river. The inlays laced up and around the shoulders, down the sides, and around the legs. The dress ended in a skirt, but each leg was individually wrapped: a closer inspection revealed the dress having a removable fastener at the waist, allowing full mobility of each leg.

Not only that: he could tell at a glance that the robes were more for utility rather than, or even in addition to, mere extravagance. They seemed much thicker, hardier, than the sort of gowns that the other girls had worn. A part of him, the part raised by the Dursleys, commended it. It obviously wasn't just some fancy, worthless dress: it looked like it'd survive some serious wear and tear.

Cementing the image was a brilliant smile adorning her face, and a radiant blush nearly as bright as her hair.

"Thank you." she whispered.

* * *

She had nearly screamed when she had collided with the person, but was greatly relieved to have not.

Because almost as soon as she regained her senses, she was looking up, into Harry's viridian eyes, with a smile, almost as if he had been told a joke, stretched across his face. A genuine smile, not a forced one.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as he reached down, hand held out. Held out for her.

She involuntarily broke into a smile as she grasped his hand, and raised herself back up to her feet.

His usual school robes had been entirely replaced by a set of robes matching his eyes: at any other time, she'd have complained about the use of Slytherin colors. Today, she was merely stunned. It wasn't just the matching of his eyes, however. He had chosen a plain, white shirt, contrasting the ocean-green robes quite nicely, even opted to add a plain white bow-tie to complete the image.

Still, the whole package only served to draw her gaze upwards, where she met his eyes with resolution.

"Thank you." she whispered, praying silently that she hadn't gone entirely red.

* * *

He stared at her for a moment, but quickly felt the fear returning. He should say something, right?

"So uh, how… how are you doing?" he sputtered.

She stood silent for a moment. Did she see through him? Would it really be over that fast?

"I'm fine," she replied, drawing a silent sigh of relief from Harry. "It took me awhile to get into this dress."

"It's a nice dress." he replied automatically.

His date cringed slightly, forcing him to backpedal. Was the dress a sore subject?

"So… uhh… this uh, Triwizard stuff, heh?"

Ginny noticeably loosened up as the topic changed. Her face twisted into a frown as she replied.

"It's **stupid**. There's no way they should have made you have to compete. What the hell were they thinking? Sometimes I think the people in charge of this place are all idiots." she grumbled, but quickly widened her eyes and threw her hands over her mouth.

"No, no, it's all right." he responded, glad to finally have an ear to talk to. "You're right. It _is_ bloody stupid. I've either got the best luck in the world, or the worst luck. I honestly can't tell."

"My friend Aura says if something weird happens in this school, one way or another, it's going to find its way to you."

"The blonde? The one I always see you with?" he replied, shuddering slightly. "She's definitely a character."

Around them, the other couples had begun to pair off and head towards the Great Hall.

"We… uhh… should probably get moving, right?" he spoke, as he sheepishly extended his hand for her to hold. "We're supposed to hold hands, right?"

"Right." replied Ginny, who paused for a moment, before grasping his hand tightly.

* * *

She stood there silently. She knew she was supposed to say something, but what would she say?

At worst, she'd look like an idiot.

"So, how are you doing?" asked Harry.

Oh thank goodness. She wouldn't need to be the one to break the silence.

"I'm fine."

' _I'm fine_ '? Seriously? Mentally, she facepalmed. Why was making conversation so damn _hard_?

"It… uhm... took me awhile to get into this dress." she continued.

"It's a nice dress." he replied.

It was, but it wasn't _hers_. Part of herself wished that she had chosen her own dress, but... well…

"So, how's about this Triwizard stuff?" spoke Harry.

Mentally, she rejoiced. Hopefully, they wouldn't return to that particular topic.

"It's **stupid**. There's no way they should have made you have to compete." she tried to stop herself, but the words kept spilling out. "What the hell were they thinking? Sometimes I think the people in charge of this place are all idiots."

Oh Merlin. She just swore in front of her date! Ladies were supposed to be prim and proper!

Her pulse raced as she clamped her hands over her mouth. Hopefully he'd just forget what she said.

But Harry didn't insult her for it. Instead, he smiled, broadly, and replied. "No, no, you're right. It _is_ bloody stupid. I've either got the best luck in the world, or the worst luck. I honestly can't tell."

Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"My friend Aura says if something weird happens in this school, one way or another, it's going to find its way to you."

Why did she keep saying stupid? Riiight, talk about another girl during her date.

"The blonde? The one I always see you with?" he replied, with a rather flat tone. "She's definitely a character."

The jealous part of her receded slightly with those words.

"We should probably get moving, right?" he spoke, as he confidently extended his hand for her to hold.

Ginny blinked at the hand for a moment.

"We're supposed to hold hands, right?"

"Right." slowly replied Ginny, as she nervously reached forward, and grasped the hand tight.

* * *

Even as the music began playing, and the other couples had begun to dance, Harry still lacked words. Even worse, he knew he couldn't dance: his scant attempts to entertain himself when the Dursleys were out of the house had proven that without a doubt. He was hardly a dancer, and tended to trip over his own feet more often than not.

Here he was, at a brilliant party, and he was only standing around like a bloody idiot, waiting, and hoping for her to say something, anything. All the while watching the other, happier, couples dance.

He felt like an awkward idiot. A part of him, which was slowly growing in size, berated him for even choosing to put himself in this position.

He slammed down on that that particular thought. He was at a Ball, and he would enjoy it.

If not only for himself, then for Ginny. After all, she was doing fine, right?

He picked a topic at random.

"So… Quidditch?" he sputtered, hoping he had chosen correctly.

Only to mentally backpedal. Idiot! The girls in his year were focused on perfumes and dressing up, not in sports like him. Hermione, the only exception he had seen, was not one for sports either.

"Don't have to tell me about it…" grumbled Ginny.

"If you want to talk about something else, I'm up for it!" he spoke, letting loose a small nervous chuckle.

"No, I'm fine with it." she nodded.

"I… uhh… So what's your favorite team?" he asked.

"Holyhead Harpies." she answered, without even a moment's hesitation.

"Isn't that the all-girl's team?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping to get onto it, after I graduate." she murmured.

"You play Quidditch?"

Ginny's eyebrows furrowed in anger. "I was going to try out for a reserve spot on the team this year, but the stupid tournament cancelled it!"

His slowly began to crack a smile. "Don't I know it. I was hoping to kick Slytherin's butt a couple more times, maybe bring home the cup this year. So what position were you aiming for?"

Ginny returned his smile. "Chaser. I think you've got the Seeker position tied up for the next three years, yeah? Besides, I'm better at aiming than I am at finding things."

"So what've you been doing, if you haven't been able to play Quidditch games?" he inquired.

"Who said anything about that? Me and a couple dozen others have been playing pick-up games in our free time."

His eyes widened in glee. "No bloody way. Where are these games, and where can I sign up?"

* * *

Ginny silently groaned, as she sat on the bench beside Harry, watching the other dancers dance.

Her she was, doing the exact thing she said she wouldn't do: sitting in a corner like a bloody wallflower! But yet, she didn't know what so say. She had done her best to make conversation, but when the discussion steered towards the bloody weather, she had lost all but the last of her nerve.

Maybe he really does deserve someone better, she thought.

Why couldn't she be calm and confident like him?

He at least wasn't practically tearing his hair out. In fact, it was only sheer force of will that prevented her from chewing her lip raw.

"So… Quidditch?" he asked, drawing her from her reverie.

"Don't have to tell me about it…" grumbled Ginny. The annoyance of being unable to try out for the team was still going strong.

"If you want to talk about something else, I'm up for it!" he spoke, giving her an out.

Here she was. She could take the out, and just sit there, silent, for the rest of the night. Or she could take a risk, and either fly, or crash and burn.

"No, I'm fine with it." she answered.

"So what's your favorite team?" he asked.

"Holyhead Harpies." It was true: she had always loved the Harpies.

"Isn't that the all-girl's team?"

"Yeah. I'm hoping to get onto it, after I graduate." she murmured. Would he judge her for that?

"You play Quidditch?"

Once again, her mouth got the better of her. "I was going to try out for a reserve spot on the team this year, but the stupid tournament cancelled it!", she growled.

His lips parted into a smile. "Don't I know it. I was hoping to kick Slytherin's butt a couple more times, maybe bring home the cup this year. So what position were you aiming for?"

She could feel herself begin to relax. "Chaser. I think you've got the Seeker position tied up for the next three years, yeah? Besides, I'm better at aiming than I am at finding things."

"So what've you been doing, if you haven't been able to play Quidditch games?" he inquired.

"Who said anything about that? Me and a couple dozen others have been playing pick-up games in our free time." she retorted, finally beginning to enjoy the part.

His eyes widened. "No bloody way. Where are these games, and where can I sign up?"

* * *

"Augh!" grunted Ginny, as she sent herself tumbling, having just tripped over Harry's accidentally over-extended left leg.

"Crap, sorry. I've got two left feet, and that's on a good day. I must've been a bird my last life; I'm told I'm a bloody miracle on a broom, but bloody worthless on the ground. You all right?" murmured Harry.

"It's all right. I'm not made of bloody glass. Besides, either you'd trip, or I was going to." she chirped.

Sure, they were making a mess of things, but it was definitely fun. After all, neither she nor Harry had taken any real offense. Neither of them knew how to dance, but by Merlin, they were going to try. The other couples were giving them both a wide berth, but honestly, who cared?

"Not much of a dancer either?" he asked flippantly, brushing himself off. He still had a rather large patch of dirt on his left sleeve, but neither of the pair really minded.

"Nope. Never was. Probably never will be." she stated, as she held out her hands again. "Go again?"

"Only if you don't swing me into Neville again." he answered.

"I guess I'll just have to try to aim at Malfoy instead." she chuckled.

"By all means, do so." he smiled back at her.

* * *

They parted ways smiling, happy that the dance had gone well.

Although neither of the two had escaped unscathed, (they both bore several rapidly-forming bruises from where they had fallen on top of one another, collided with the furniture, or tripped over their own feet and had ended up on their rears), both of them were laughing merrily by the very end.

'I'm not alone.' they both thought. 'I'm not the only one terrified. I'm weird, I'm not perfect, but they just don't care.'

As the final song ended, they parted ways with a short, rather poorly-executed kiss, and slowly began their walk back to their dorms.

They took the scenic route, arriving back at around eight.

* * *

Harry jolted awake when something heavy collided with his bed.

"Get up." stated a female voice that practically dripped with anger.

'Wait, what the hell? What time is it?' he mentally groaned, as his eyes slowly fluttered open. It couldn't possibly be much past two in the morning.

In front of him, illuminated by a glowing ball of fire dancing in her left hand, was Ginny's roommate, face contorted in rage and terror.

Wait, didn't the dorms have wards against the opposite gender? He'd need to check, later. Right now, there were more pressing concerns.

"You're taking me down to this goddamn Chamber of Secrets, and you're taking me there **now**." Aura growled.

His mind froze for a moment.

"Why?" he asked, fear and dread rising with every moment. If she was looking for the chamber, then...

"Ginny's **gone**." the blonde stated. "Ginny's gone, and I can't track her down."

* * *

 **V2**


	29. (Y3, P6) Secrets

_Update schedule's a bit sporadic right now, because of other, real-life things. I'm hoping to update once a week at the minimum, but failing that, three times a month._

* * *

We can't find Ginny.

Even convincing Potter to take me down into the Chamber didn't help.

Ginny wasn't there.

We poked around down there for about three hours.

For three, goddamn, hours.

Earlier, I was pretty damn terrified.

But after three hours, I'm mostly just severely pissed.

The basilisk was still down there, by the way: it's huge, larger than I thought it'd be. Larger than Potter thought it was, too.

Don't decaying cows swell up or something before they explode? It's probably a good idea I used it before it did that, then. Even if not, it's not like the corpse is doing much right now, it'd be a shame to waste it.

Anyway.

The chamber was pretty interesting: besides the slime, it was actually decently comfortable.

Unfortunately, it was 'comfortable' to the inhuman part of me, which meant it was bad news for pretty much anyone else.

Entering the Chamber…

Well, Potter had slid down on his shoes, somehow staying on his feet as he flew down the ramp. Not really trusting my own balance, I used my wings to slow me down as I descended.

Of course, I had to withdraw them when I approached the end of the tunnel, which lead to me overbalancing, and falling onto my ass.

Once I was back on my feet, and the worst of the gunk was removed from my robes, we did a clean sweep of the entry area, then the area he had found Ginny the first time.

I snickered a few times when he pointed out the still-glittery spots on the tiles, much to his confusion. One of these days I'll tell him the whole story, but I think it'd be better if he was kept in the dark for now. More amusing, at least.

From the center area, we basically rushed a thorough investigation of the chamber. A majority of the area was pretty empty. For the most part, it was just tacky statues, the occasional snake engraving, and the rare enchanted rune.

Speaking of which, I had to save Potter's ass, after he nearly activated a rather powerful rune on a door. A door in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a hidden chamber.

Did I mention that, even though we **still** don't know where Ginny is (despite what Dumbledore says), it wasn't entirely a massive fuck-up?

I'm not sure if it was the study of Voldemoron, or Salazar Slytherin, or some other person who found their way down there, but we found a door leading to a study.

Potter, being the brave hero that he happens to be, had his hand about about three inches away from the door, before I tackled him to the side, which unfortunately caused us to run into a wall. He was practically cringing when I rather

Well, to be honest, I was probably just screaming at him not to touch the door.

Disarming the damn thing sucked, by the way: I didn't recognise the runes, but they looked reasonably weak. Thus, rather than leaving them be, I just overcharged the runes and ate the feedback.

Fun fact, taking feedback from centuries-old runes sucks. It's like trying to disarm a bomb by hitting it with a hammer, and praying that most of the explosion points away from you.

After my impromptu magical sledgehammer, Potter once again charged into the next room (not before asking me if there were any more traps, of course), which, to his disappointment, only contained books.

Damned rare books, but books nonetheless. We both agreed that, after everything was said and done, and we had found Ginny, we'd come back down, loot all of them, and then maybe sell them or horde them or something.

I honestly think I'll eventually use my share to bribe Granger. She'd love this kind of thing.

Unfortunately, there were no kidnapped fangirls in sight.

Pretty much after that, we both decided that she was definitely not in the Chamber, and that sitting around in an empty, dank sewer was not to either of our tastes, and started making our way back to the exit.

We briefly debated how best to escape, before we ran directly into the answer.

Quite literally.

Professor Snape, eyes full of murder, was standing in the entry hall. Turns out, the door to the Chamber does _not_ automatically close behind us. He must've jumped down, although if his clothes were any indication, he hadn't fallen over like I had. Although I really wonder what sort of horrible thought process would cause him to find himself in an abandoned girl's restroom.

Between the ranting about having 'been forced to search the castle for a pair of foolish, pampered Gryffindors', about how Potter was 'Just as much of a dunderhead as [his] idiot father'. This of course was of course compounded by the general, undirected anger towards the destruction of a the entryway, which, to my knowledge, was probably the closest thing to sacred as these Wizards get. From what I could tell, Snape was on his merry way to reaching a straight up psychotic break.

Potter, to his credit, was holding his mouth quite well. He was pale and terrified, of course, but mostly held his ground. I mean, he still looked like he wanted to die, and was partially terrified that Snape would kill him, but he was doing the smart thing and letting me talk instead.

All of this was caused because apparently, neither of us had remembered to leave a note.

I mean, I didn't really need one, since I'm pretty sure everyone pretends I don't exist, but Potter…

Turns out Weasley (the oblivious one) had recognised that Potter was missing, and had hastily drafted up a castle-wide search. Snape himself was dragged in, after a rather furious Weasley drafted up Granger, and the two ambushed Malfoy and his gang of idiots in the halls, stunning all three in hopes of interrogating them for information.

I mean, good guess, but not correct, this time.

In retrospect, I probably was too hard on him. When we were heading back to our common room, he ran up to us, babbling about how he had 'looked all over' for Harry, and that he 'bloody well better tell us where he's going' next time.

I might've lost my temper, when I pointed out that he didn't seem to care, or even _notice_ that his little _sister_ was also missing. That knocked him off his pedestal real fast. 'Course, his oldest brother, the one who had personally escorted the two of us back from Dumbledore's office and walks like he has a stick up his ass, pretty much went sheet-white as soon as I had said that, but it really served the both of them right.

Anyway, back to the Chamber. I can talk about the fallout later.

Snape, who was pretty much three steps from losing his shit entirely, had put us into a rather dangerous position. Ahead of us, was the way out. Unfortunately, neither Potter nor I had a way to get out effectively (I mean, I could, but then I'd need to ask Potter to go back to the main room so I could fly out, then tie a rope or something to one of the sinks), and even if we did that, Snape would be unlikely to move, which meant no wings altogether.

We resolved it, of course, by offering him some of the (hopefully fresh enough) Basilisk corpse.

I mean, I resolved it. Potter sorta gave me a sideways look when I offered, but at that point, I didn't really care. I really wanted a shower, and I wanted one **right away**. Besides, I wasn't giving him the _entire_ thing, maybe like a couple kilograms of flesh, a few fangs, and like a quart of venom.

I must've said the right thing, because he pretty much threw the two of us aside to charge towards the carcass.

We found him on a knee beside the snake, murmuring calculations about spoil rates, along with something that I'm pretty sure was the formula for maximum-strength anti-venom. He had pulled out a pad of paper as well, and was scrawling out a list of things on it, in a handwriting that, one of these days, I am certain someone will take to a henhouse to get translated.

His needs and/or greed resolved, Snape dragged the two of us out of the Chamber, using a hastily-conjured rope.

Of course, not before removing a marker from who-knows-where, circling a portion of the giant snake, and demanding us not to damage that portion. It was a decent-sized portion, but really, what do either of the two of us know about giant snakes?

And that's how we ended up before Dumbledore, who stared at us for about a minute-and-a-half before saying anything.

Unfortunately, neither Potter nor I were willing to say anything, until the exact moment we tried, at which point we just babbled at the same time.

Basically, it took us another ten minutes to communicate that Ginny had gone missing, I had drafted Potter into helping me look for her, and that no, neither of us had decided it'd be a good idea to write a note.

Dumbledore, to his credit, held his smile quite convincingly. Unfortunately, his whispered murmuring of 'Crouch, you bloody idiot' wasn't quite inaudible enough.

Anyway, he ended up reassuring us (unsuccessfully) that Ginny was fine, and that we'd be seeing her soon. He mentioned that we had technically earned points for our attempted heroics, but had lost an identical amount of points for throwing the Gryffindor house, along with a portion of the rest of the school, into a panic. Oh, and that Weasley had lost some points, after he had assaulted Malfoy.

We did, of course, mention the study we had found, and the Basilisk corpse we had bribed Snape with.

He smiled at the choice with the corpse, but his eyes grew wide when we mentioned the books. Something tells me some Wizards are willing to pay good money for them. Good thing we came across them before someone else could: I'm willing to bet that there's a whole treasure trove of Dark spells in those tomes.

And with that, we left the office, me feeling gross from the Chamber's slime, and Potter with his head in his hands, attempting to kill a rather-likely headache. I get a feeling he will be unsuccessful.

At that point, Other Weasley showed up, annoyed us, I knocked him down a peg, I'm pretty sure I already wrote about that.

Basically, by the end of it all, I had to promise Potter that if I saw Ginny, I'd let him know.

* * *

Granger is **not** happy.

Missing a day of classes to hunt down a missing roommate? Unacceptable!

She of course, like everyone else in this goddamn castle, got me in the hallways, after I stumbled out of my room bleary-eyed, because I had no chippy morning person to wake me up in time to get ready before breakfast.

Ginny, despite reassurances by Dumbledore, did not return during the night, and I'm seriously tempted to try and break into his office, in search of evidence.

Anyway, immediately following said encounter, was a five-minute tirade about 'educational responsibility'. I had to cut her off about a minute in, to ask if she had already grilled Potter, of if I was just the practice run.

As soon as I saw her blink at me in confusion, I was off in a run. I'm pretty sure she hit me with a stunner from behind, but I shrugged it off and kept running. She knew plenty of spells, yeah, but her power needs plenty of work.

Right now, I'm in an empty classroom on the third floor, carving runes into another wooden totem.

For the record, I still can't track Ginny, but I can still feel her signature: she's close, but I can't find her. It's goddamn infuriating.

* * *

Potter came to me today, holding a handful of Gillyweed.

Basically, he asked if I could find a way to stretch its effectiveness in a brew or something.

Apparently, the next challenge involves water breathing.

Anyway, he had apparently already gone to Longbottom to get the plant identified, as he was not willing to risk his life on a potentially mis-identified plant. After all, he was given the plant by a Defense teacher, the same teacher that prided 'preparedness' the same way a fish prided its ability to swim.

That was a bit off track.

Anyway, there was enough Gillyweed to brew up three or four doses of Lungfish Potion, each which'd last for about an hour and a bit (whoever named the potion should go die. Please.), and I know I can brew some up in about a day and a half.

Needless to say, I said yes, took the plant, and started my brewing.

Oh, and on a less-important thing, Granger's finally calmed down. Apparently, Potter gave her one of the fancy antique books we looted yesterday.

Bringing a rope to climb back up after we were done was potentially one of the smartest things we've ever done.

Anyway, I'm now about forty books richer, including everything the study had in Infernal (there were actually four books, mostly about magic theory), warding, or Dark Arts. Mostly because I don't trust Potter not to get that crap confiscated.

Hopefully, by the time she's finished speed-reading the tome (read, 12 hours at *most*), she'll be calm enough to cut the rants out.

If not, I'm certain I can outrun her.

* * *

Next challenge is in two days.

Ginny's signature is still in the school, but I still can't track her. It honestly feels like she's teleporting around.

Here's to hoping she didn't fall into an anomaly. That'd suck, and I don't feel like having to explain that to her brothers.

* * *

Is every single person in charge of this place a goddamn idiot?

I expected swimming to be involved, what with Potter's request for a water-breathing potion.

What I didn't expect, was swimming in a lake. A big lake. A lake full of Mermen.

In the middle of goddamn winter.

I was seated by the side of the lake, with Ginn

With Luna, and Monique. Ginny was at the bottom of the lake.

Needless to say, Potter looked miserable that he had forgotten to ask for a warming potion (which I'd have given him anyway, no one deserved to be as cold as it was in Scotland), Cedric was smiling, as always, the Durmstang guy was doing warm-up stretches/push ups/crunches, and Fleur looked terrified.

Now. Tell me. What happens, when you take a creature of fire, like a Veela-blood, and have them jump into a deep lake?

If your answer was 'they get a pony and Merlin comes and gives everyone candy and everyone lives happy ever after', then congratulations on your new job position as manager of the Triwizard Tournament. Please remember the door opens with a push, not a pull, and try not to hurt yourself on the way out.

If you _aren't_ a moron, then you'd realise that not only are they bloody worthless in the water, but they drown extremely quickly (something something blood oxygenation), are generally less aquadynamic than a human, and Mermen don't like them.

Note: the lake is full of Mermen.

Also note: when I say 'Mermen don't like them', I mean 'stabbity stabbity killy killy'.

And that's exactly what happened.

Fleur was the first up out of the water, alone and bleeding rather heavily. Of course, it took about a minute and a half for anyone else to even realize this, which was enough for me to grab Luna, and charge towards the wounded Veela.

Of course, Monique asked the mandatory 'Why do you even have a medical kit'.

I will have it, until it stops being useful. And from the way my life is shaping up, that'll probably be never.

I managed to stabilize Fleur before anyone thought to send Pomfrey down.

The entire time, Fleur was rapid-firing French at Monique, while she (and Luna, who apparently could speak French) stared at her in horror. One quick translation later from Luna…

I have no words

What

Two.

They decided to put

Fleur's _sister_ as a hostage.

Might I mention, she is Veela-Blooded. And is currently surrounded by Mermen. Who hate her. Oh, and her escape plan was another Veela-Blooded, who also is hated by Mermen. Mermen with spears.

I pretty much just entirely lost it, turned to the nearest official-looking person I could find (I looked for stupid hair), and started laying into them in Infernal. Luna had to drag me off: I wasn't stopping without that. On the plus side, I didn't manage to actually evoke anything, although the grass below me was starting to smell like burning, as was everything else I could smell.

Anyway, by the time I had calmed down (it took a while), Potter was back with a rather cold-looking Ginny in one arm, Fleur's sister (which Ginny wasn't as jealous about as I'd thought she'd be) on the other, and a brand spanking new stab wound. It wasn't serious, only cosmetic damage, and a quick dose of healing balm basically removed it entirely. Added a bandage wrap, just to be sure.

As for Ginny and Fleur's sister (apparently her name is Gabrielle), a warming charm and a small dose of pepper-up was enough.

Ginny sighed at my paranoid over-preparedness, before wandering off in search of a warm shower. Woe betide anyone foolish enough to stand before her goal.

Of course, first thing before that, she asked if I had touched her stuff.

It's good to have her back.


	30. (Y3, P7) Overcome

_This increase in productivity is brought to you by NaNoWriMo._

 _Here's to hoping I don't run out of steam._

* * *

It's going to take a ton of effort (and a small dive in marks for History of Ma… History of Boring…), but Ginny's certain she can get caught back up in her classes, enough to make up for the week and a bit she spent tied up who-knows where awaiting her chance to be put at the bottom of the lake.

Speaking of which, I was rather curious about where exactly she was being kept.

From what she remembers, she was unconscious a majority of the time. Occasionally, she would awake to hear the sound of students passing by, but she could never stay awake long enough to spend much time at all examining her surroundings.

The room itself was apparently pretty bare: besides herself and the other captives, only a set of beds (there was one per captive, likely enchanted, but she doesn't know exactly what with), a small table, and a bookshelf. The beds were definitely enchanted to avoid escape: she couldn't leave hers, regardless of what she tried. There were no windows or visible doors either.

The waking periods were irregular in duration, and with nothing to gauge time, impossible to figure out just how often they were happening.

None of the other captives were awake during the whole thing, only her. If I'm to guess, I'd say the robes were doing their job, weakening the effects of whatever-the-hell was afflicting her.

Too bad they weren't effective enough to help her escape. Speaking of which, she was still wearing my robes when under the lake. To be honest, I'm going to probably steam-clean them to get all of the crap out of them.

Still, if she was captured and held just for this stupid contest, then no one is safe, really. The first one was bad for the competitor. The second, bad for those close to the competitor.

What's the third, then? Bad for everybody? I'm not waiting around to find out.

The Twins bumped into me earlier, just as we were heading back to our dorm. They said they wanted to talk to me tomorrow, 6 AM sharp.

It's going to suck, but I'll get it done.

* * *

Some time at around six, the Twins were waiting for me in the common room. A nice change, as opposed to finding me in the hallways, like everyone else does.

They hadn't been in the loop: they had only discovered that their sister had gone missing after the fact. Even worse, they had learned this information from their eldest brother, who apparently wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the two. Still, at least the guy wasn't enough of a bastard to not tell his younger brothers about their sister's disappearance.

Having two panicking, over-protective brothers attempting to grill me for information wasn't exactly the most pleasant experience. And the past while has been nothing but a non-stop party of unpleasant experiences.

Still, at least they did their level best to get the most information they could. I told them basically everything Ginny had told me (they admitted later that they were only asking me because they were giving Ginny time to recover, which I can respect, I guess)

By the end of it, the pair promised to help me out if I ever needed assistance, mostly because they owed me a debt for helping out their little sister.

As if I did anything. I spent the entire week and a half pretty much useless. I absolutely hate feeling useless.

And you know what?

Let's find a way to fix that.

They want to make our lives hell?

Let's make them work for it.

* * *

Just before I left, I remembered to give Ginny her Christmas present: she was staring at me practically googly-eyed when I handed her a Comet 260. Sure, it's not the newest broom any more, but from word of mouth, they're apparently extremely good for a chaser. Plus, it's not fancy enough to get her brothers on her case.

She, of course hugged me.

I had planned to give it to her just after the ball, but with the random kidnapping, my plans sort of went awry.

It felt nice, to know my gift was appreciated.

She, in turn, got me a starter kit of potions ingredients, mostly medium-quality. I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with them, but honestly, I've never said no to having more options in front of me.

* * *

I spent the winter break going over spells, looking for possibilities on what we could do.

I have some ideas now, but I know they'll need a bit more work before they're usable.

* * *

The library was the important stop of the day, as soon as I got back to the castle. Granger was there, as always.

Exactly the person I was looking for.

She of course, had her nose directly into a book, and had to be poked a few times to be snapped out of it.

She briefly asked about Veela rights (something I wasn't exactly an expert on), but I cut her off.

This was important, dammit.

I asked her if there was any way to quickly message people.

Of course, her first response was a cell phone.

My question was narrowed. Was there a way to quickly message people, on something that isn't incredibly vulnerable to being obliterated by whatever is chasing said person, doesn't run out of charge, and isn't affected by anti-electronic charms?

With that, I received a blank stare, before she charged off towards the charms section, retrieving a tome labeled 'Utility Charms'. From there, she flipped through the pages, finally coming to rest at a particular passage.

The Protean Charm.

A stupid little charm, which caused a link between two or more items. Pretty much infinite in range, instant in effect. Any magic affecting one linked object, would affect all of the linked objects. The easiest thing to do would be to make the objects all heat up when activated.

Apparently, she had spent some time going over the charm herself. It's a reasonably difficult spell to cast, requiring finicky spellcraft, along with a hefty dose of concentrated power.

Unfortunately, it lacks a method to trace the activated object, rendering the charm useless as a tracking device, or as a rescue beacon.

Still, it was better than nothing. If something were to happen, we'd be able to at least alert people that something had gone wrong, right?

I had to bribe her with one of the Chamber books.

The book was on warding, of course. I'm not letting the Dark books out of my sight. I found a bookmark in one of them, directly to a page that detailed a curse that caused contagious, magical, pretty much non-dispellable necrosis. Needless to say, it definitely was a nasty thing to read about, and it isn't even the darkest thing in the books.

Anyway, I bribed her with a Chamber book, in exchange for having her help me fabricate a couple of the Protean-linked items.

Granger's certain she can handle the spellcraft, and I'm definitely sure I can power the runes. Still, I'm going to want to get some field testing of the charmed things first. I'm not risking using a thing that hasn't been tested.

Plus, y'know, I'd need to get the sensitivities right. Don't want to be scalding people by accident, right?

* * *

We started making some mock-ups today. We didn't really have much to work with, resources wise, so we threw around various ideas on what to enchant.

Sure, the wood was great for practicing on, and we made a few test pieces out of a few inch-square discs, but they're too fragile and aren't magically conductive enough to handle more than six links. Besides, they'd too obvious to carry around everywhere.

Speaking of practice, I accidentally burned Granger when charging the second item: turns out if I put too much power into it, the heat carries over to the active copies.

I apologised, but she was definitely more interested in that effect, far more than the personal harm she had received. To be honest, it's sort of unnerving how much she's into this whole 'spell experimenting' thing. One of these days, she's either going to invent something awesome, or end the world.

Anyway, we've got a set of three or four done now, so we just need to start working on seeing what the limits for them are.

Maybe, after we're done, we'll see if we can't get them to do things other than heat up.

* * *

Ginny's noticed that I've been out of the room a lot more often than usual. She's been keeping an eye on me, apparently, because being kidnapped as often as she is, she's starting to project her worries a bit.

When I mentioned that I was preparing for Potter's third task, she pretty much paled, then started stammering about how she forgot. And then she dashed off, either to apologise to Potter, or to go prepare for something. Honestly, as long as she's doing something, it'll be an improvement.

* * *

I ended up meeting back up with Monique and Luna again today. Needless to say, neither of the two are impressed that Fleur's little sister was put at the bottom of the lake, nor are they looking forward to the aftereffects of whatever the hell the third task is.

To be honest, Monique's looking a bit frantic. The fact that not a single member of the Hogwarts crowd, who were the closest to Fleur when she came up, gave a single damn about the wounded Veela, and it was up to me to patch her up before she bled out…

Well, she's a bit shaken in her belief in humanity, that's for sure. Or in English humanity, at least. She's basically itching to leave Hogwarts, as quickly as she can, which is something that both make sense, and is heavily recommended if you wish to stay the hell out of Potter's danger zone. Unfortunately, she's stuck her as long as this tournament is still going.

Fleur probably would have been fine for another minute and a bit, but I don't regret helping her as much as I could.

Also, Fleur wants to thank me personally. Apparently, she wasn't as out of it as she seemed to be, and fully remembers us coming over to help. And my rather angry outburst. I'm not sure whether or not she was able to understand me, which might be an interesting thing to look into.

Monique also stated with a wink that, although there was no written proof of this, Fleur agreed with me on my opinion of the organizers whole-heartedly.

* * *

Potter walked in on Hermione and I charging another set of discs, this set enchanted to have a flat limit to the amount magic sent through.

He was basically just coming in to beg for quick-dose potions, poultices and bandages. Just something to keep him going and alive if he managed to 'get [himself] stabbed by another bloody spear'. His words, not mine.

Of course, he was interested in what exactly we were doing.

Turns out, I completely forgot to mention to Granger why exactly I needed these discs done.

Needless to say, she was all for it: emergency distress beacons are, in her eyes, a very good thing to have. Especially on Potter.

Turns out, even Potter's little group of friends consider him disaster-prone.

Anyway, I ended up handing Potter off some of my supplies, as well as telling him how exactly to use them. I'm about two-thirds through my supplies, and I have a feeling I'll only go through more of it next year. That is, if we make it that long. That's always an option: we could all die, and that'd really simplify things.

The newest version of the discs did their job reasonably well: no matter how much power I pumped into them, the linked disc never got hot enough to burn Granger. Unfortunately, from what I could tell, the modified charm had a maximum range of about a quarter of a mile. Oh, and there was a pretty large energy bleed, meaning they were pretty hard to activate on purpose. I had a hell of a time explaining how I knew, but it made sense and Granger accepted it.

We're still trying to find a happy medium between range (which, let's be honest here, is going to be important), ease of use, and danger to the user.

Once we get that going, only then can we get started on multiple triggers.

Who knows? We might even be able to sell the damn things after.

* * *

Fleur basically just wanted to thank me for patching her up. Along with rather vocally stating her dissatisfaction with the school for doing nothing. Turns out, Veela-blooded are known for holding grudges. Who would've guessed.

Although she wasn't entirely happy with me for bringing Luna along.

Turns out, Luna wanted her interview, and she was getting it, my opinion-be-damned.

Basically: ten minutes of hearty mockery of the idiots in Hogwarts, followed by twenty of Luna all-but-interrogating Fleur for information. Turns out Fleur, not only being a Veela-blooded, but also a Champion, was pretty much the perfect capstone for whatever article she'd been throwing together over the year.

I'm actually pretty interested in what it'll look like when it's done.

Monique must've ended up 'leaking' that I'm a Veela-blooded, or at least something close, and am in hiding. This is of course because a few of the others were looking at me with looks somewhere between interest and pity. As awesome as learning more about how V-bloods are raised would be, I don't think I'd be able to hold up to the scrutiny of more than one at a time.

Oh, an interesting fact: due to a Veela's bird-like nature, the average Veela-blooded has a near demigod-level of heat tolerance. As in, able to eat chilies like candy. Silly and mostly inconsequential, but honestly, not a single book I've read on the topic has even hinted at that. Luna has a way with sussing out interesting information.

We thanked our gracious hosts, then headed our separate ways. Fleur tried to thank me in something that sounded a bit like Infernal, but her phrasing was wrong, and there was too much emphasis on the wrong parts of her words.

Pretty much all of the other V-bloods stared at her in confusion when she spoke. I doubt whatever she was speaking is a commonly-used tongue.

Luna left with a skip in her step, a whistle on her lips, and a foot-and-a-half of hastily scrawled notes.

I left confused, unsure of what exactly to make of that revelation.

* * *

Ginny's finally realised that I'm spending a good amount of time talking to the French, and finally confronted me about it.

I mean, it's probably a bit mean messing with her like this, but hinting that I 'had a lot in common with some of them' practically shut her down for a good hour, while she attempted to make connections in her mind.

Plus, it's not like she can complain with me making friends. She complains enough about me sitting around being asocial enough for it to be quite annoying. It's not like she can take it back without looking like a liar.

While I've been out, she's been searching for the room she was being held in, mostly on a gut feeling. She's certain she's found the general area, but there's something stopping her from finding the exact location.

I promised to help her look, once the tournament was done, assuming she hasn't found it herself by then.

* * *

We finally made a breakthrough with the discs.

By chaining a Warming Charm to the Protean Charm, and then routing it through a Fire glyph, Granger and I managed to mock up a disc able to work at a range of about two miles, with pretty much no danger risk.

Unfortunately, to activate it, you need to channel into the rune, which means that it takes effort to activate, rather than something you could use while running. Also, it goes off if you get blasted by a powerful enough fire spell. However, since to accidentally activate it, you need to be hit hard enough to light your possessions on fire, we deemed this as 'not a bug', and kept the feature.

I mean, I could definitely use it while running, but Potter and Granger don't have quite my affinity. Still, anything is better than nothing, and we'll start training everyone to use the damn things tomorrow. It'd be ideal if we get the thing set up as soon as we can, who knows when the challenge will start.

We'll give a disc each to me, Ginny, Weasley, and Potter, as well as leaving one for Granger. We also made a spare, in case we manage to damage one.

We're finally ahead of the game.

Now for everything to go horribly wrong.

* * *

 **V3**


	31. (Y3, P7, O1) The Third Task

For the fourth time this hour, Hermione glanced towards the small wooden disc clutched in her left hand.

 _For the first time in a long while, the logical part of her was in complete agreement with the romantic, more magically-inclined part of her: no matter what was happening on the inside of the maze, it was going to go south. The only question was when. Four years at Hogwarts had cemented that fact: something was going to go wrong. The only question was just how wrong that something would be._

 _And Harry knew it too, if his earlier actions were of any indication. Unlike his usual behaviour, where he would charge in, without any reservations, he was… hesitant. Reluctant, even. He had gone over his gathered supplies several times, and even had done a check of the emergency beacon, twice!_

 _The mere fact he even acknowledged that the beacon would be important shook her._

 _Yet, as Hermione stood there, outside the maze, staring at the magically-conjured screens (which brought to mind memories of her as a child watching Star Trek), she could do nothing. She desperately wanted to be in the maze with Harry (Well, not want, per say, as even though she knew she would do it, she knew she would not enjoy it), she was trapped outside, waiting, and hoping to be able to serve as cavalry, when the disaster should finally arrive._

Beside her stood Ron, and to a little bit to the left, stood Ginny and her small group of friends. The race was set to begin in but a few minutes, but she knew that nothing of importance would happen until all four competitors were inside the maze. Instead, she fell back onto her thoughts.

 _From what little interactions she had made with Ginny's friends, they all tended to paint a picture of being strange, at the very least._

She broke her thoughts for a moment, just in time to watch Harry enter the maze, head slowly swiveling as he ran, searching for possible threats in the walls. Cedric, the champion tied with him, began at the same time, but was slowly pulling ahead, having partially sacrificed safety for additional speed.

 _Luna, the girl she had spent the least time with, was a strange one. What few interactions she had made with the blonde Ravenclaw usually ended in annoyance, if not a splitting headache. Although she loathed to place as insulting a label upon the girl as she had, she couldn't help but see Luna as mentally unwell, if not utterly insane._

Victor was the next to the maze, reaching his maximum speed in moments as he tore through the winding turns, hoping to make up his lost time. Twice, she could see him vault over near-invisible obstacles, running like a man possessed. Although she very much wished Harry to win, she couldn't help but cheer on the Durmstang champion, as her little date during the Ball had proven him to be a down-to-earth, mostly honorable guy, too bad he wasn't her type. She also knew that if Ron or Harry were to ever learn of her date, or of her opinion towards it, they would likely tease her mercilessly about it.

 _Luna continuously commented on things that were not there, stated facts that could not be real. Added on to the strange way she spoke, and it painted an overall picture of a confused, disturbed child, the sort of which horror movies tended to revolve around. After her last disaster with Luna's 'newspaper' (more of a tabloid due to the content, actually), she had little to no reason to ever speak to her without a good reason._

"I've got four Sickles on the tournament being disrupted by 'Malevolent Acts of God'! Anyone want to take me up on the bet?" shouted Aurelia, loud enough to shake Hermione from her thoughts.

Around her, there was a wave of dissent, save for a mere handful of 'aye's. It seemed that most of the students had learned their lesson.

 _Aurelia, the other girl, was no less strange. Although slightly more bearable to be around, the way she held herself was alien, as if she constantly feared of being attacked. Sure, she had been a great help in designing the discs, and was an endless fountain of creative and off-the-wall ideas, her generally diminished concern towards safety of herself or those around her made it difficult to work with her. Even stranger, Hermione was certain that Aurelia wasn't entirely human. From what little hints the blonde had dropped, it was likely she was a Veela-blooded, but the hints were almost **too** obvious._

Fleur was next into the maze, although at a glacial pace. Hermione had heard what had happened to the Veela-blood second-hand through Ginny, and, as a rational supporter of equality and anti-discrimination, less than impressed. What could have potentially been a mistake, was nearly instantly cast into racism, regardless of original intent. It made sense, then, that the worried competitor would take caution in her actions.

 _Aurelia was also far too crude, occasionally launching into furious cursing far too often for her sensibilities; Hermione's mother would, should she ever meet the blonde, soap her mouth quite thoroughly. Between that and her constant, blunt, and occasionally insulting honesty, it made it exasperating to hold discussions with her for long periods of time. Still, despite this, she was still a reliable ally in a school as dangerous as Hogwarts._

A slight prod from Ron drew her attention towards Harry's display. It seemed that they had finally reached the beginning of the obstacles. In front of the pair, stood a T junction, with both paths spreading in opposite directions. With barely a nod between the two competitors, Harry began his sprint left, whereas Cedric chose the right.

With the competition finally heating up, she shook herself from her reverie. It was time to focus. Even if they were unable to interfere directly, they'd be able to contact Dumbledore the mere moment something went wrong.

Harry's path was windy, seemingly curving at an acute angle to the left, than the right. At first, the curves were merely disturbing, then improbable, but quickly escalated to impossible, and then into something that she was certain she had seen at a modern art museum in London.

Still, Harry stumbled through the maze, even as the ground writhed and shivered underneath him, enough to generate a sense of vertigo, even through the screen.

"Dear god, what the hell is that thing?" came a murmur from her left.

Turning her head to the right revealed a less-disorienting sight, but one no less disturbing.

Cedric, to his misfortune, had run into a Screwt.

Good lord, how she despised the things. Hagrid had obviously accidentally created the things, as no sane person would ever create something so horrid on purpose. Half crab, half pure evil, the creatures defied classification, magical safety rules, or proof of a loving god. Whichever ones didn't have venomous stingers sucked blood instead, and any one of them were enough to give a small child nightmares.

The fact that one of them had lit her on fire, and then attempted to impale her while she was handling it was entirely unrelated to her understandable opinion towards them. What did affect her opinion towards them was that they were obviously dangerous, entirely untrained, and likely to kill someone, should they ever get loose.

Unfortunately, Cedric was apparently not properly versed in dealing with unholy abominations, as he response was, (rather than either keep running, or to flip it over and stun the exposed belly) to throw a stunner directly at it. The beast merely blinked back at the Hufflepuff with its non-existent eyes, and then lunged forward, its stinger dripping poison.

Rolling to the side, Cedric dodged the incoming monster, before sprinting further into the maze, even as the Skrewt chased behind him.

Harry was still running down the impossible hallway, having not yet run into any monster.

Several shouts of accusation filled the air, "She can't do that! That's against the rules!"

On Fleur's screen, Fleur stood, wand held out threateningly and eye twitching, over an unconscious, likely-stunned Viktor.

"I think I missed something. Anyone want to fill me in?" Hermione spoke, even as she attempted to make sense of the situation.

"Krum went crazy, and tried to attack Delacour! I knew we couldn't trust them!" chimed in a voice from somewhere to her right.

"I still say the taint-blood did it on purpose. Can never trust those _things_." sneered another.

"Why should we care about a dark creature stunning a dark wizard? Let them fight things out."

"He tried to open up with the Cruciatus curse. Too bad he missed."

To her left, she could hear Aurelia murmur something, likely profane, in displeasure.

It didn't make sense.

Viktor, despite his stigma for being a member of Durmstang, wasn't a bad person. During the dance, she had of course probed him about what they taught over in Bulgeria, to which he had admitted he had never cast a Dark Curse towards another human, nor did he ever wish to.

So why would he…

 **Imperius.**

With as small a motion as she possibly could make, she sent a small, short pulse of heat through the beacon, their pre-agreed signal for 'bad things are starting to happen, be on your guard.' Immediately, Harry shifted into a more defensive stance, before replying with two quick pulses on the beacon, his sign for 'message received'.

Beside her, Ron and Ginny were staring at her in confusion. A silently mouthed 'Imperius' was enough to pale their faces, and return quick nods back towards her.

With the stakes now revealed, her attention was once again locked back on Harry. After all, with one champion incapacitated and likely under the influence of dark magic, and the other so far behind it'd be unlikely for her to catch up, it was only a contest between Cedric and Harry, anyway.

On Harry's screen, he had just encountered a Dementor. Although it was enough to slow his pace, he did not stop his movement. In but a moment, he had struck the thing with a Patronus. When that failed to affect it, he followed up with a Riddikulus, and it had morphed from a terrifying abomination, into a crude approximation of a bedsheet ghost. He hastily kicked it over as he ran past, perhaps as some petty form of vengeance.

Directly into Cedric.

Cedric, now sporting several fresh burns from where the Skrewt had successfully lobbed fire at him, was knocked flat on his behind, but quickly got back up on his feet, unwilling to let the still-pursuing Skrewt catch him.

To Harry's credit, the moment he saw the Skrewt approach, he was directly behind Cedric.

The pair were chased for another minute, and while they were temporarily halted by a sphinx, it appeared that their hasty answer of 'There's a Screwt behind us, and it's angry!' was actually the answer to its riddle.

Or at least, that's what she could make of their gestures. The screens did not project sound.

And finally, the two were at the center of the maze. Ahead of them, was the Triwizard cup.

There were murmurs of confusion in the crowd when Harry stopped, held Cedric at the entrance to the room, and began scanning the room.

Damn the lack of sound, she couldn't understand what Harry was saying.

Still, it seemed to have done the trick, as Cedric's face turned grim, before he joined Harry in the spellcasting.

After several seconds of continuous casting, the two wiped the sweat from their brows, smiled towards one another in relief, shook hands, and reached for the cup together.

And then they were gone.

She could feel the blazing heat coming from the disc the moment they had made contact.

Even as the shouts and accusations of the crowd rose to earsplitting levels, she could hear nothing but the sound of gears grinding in her head. Could do nothing, but mentally underline the one thing they had forgotten.

Portkey.

The trap was not in the maze. It wasn't the monsters, it wasn't the obstacles. It was the bloody trophy.

Ron had already exploded into action, having dragged Dumbledore over to where they were, and had shown him the disc.

But if she, the creator, still hadn't found out how to track it, what hope would they have?

Amid the rioting crowd, she could hear nothing. Could barely see, could barely feel.

But there was one thing she could still feel:

She could feel the sinking feeling of the disc growing cold.


	32. (Y3, P7, O2) Masks

_It is very likely this is going to go through several edits._

* * *

Portkey travel was never comfortable. Unexpected Portkey travel, was very much even more so.

When he finally came to, he could see the night sky above him, although the sounds and smells of the area around him were unfamiliar. Below him, was a firm soil, carpeted by ragged, unkempt grass.

Harry quietly swore, before turning towards the cup that had brought him here. A shimmering barrier of silvery energy had expanded around it, preventing him from coming near enough to reactivate it. He had already charged his beacon, but he knew no help was coming.

How could it, when not even he knew where he was?

He groaned to himself. They had checked the room for all sorts of traps, from false floors, to pitfalls, to charged runes. But, of course, the one thing they didn't check turned out to be the only thing that was trapped. And once again, here he was, out of his depth.

The only good thing about the whole situation was that nothing had quite happened yet: perhaps the ambush was not yet sprung.

He slowly raised himself off of the spongy ground, taking great care to keep his profile low.

"Where... are we?" groaned Cedric, as he lifted himself up, just a bit to Harry's right.

As Harry looked about, searching for a clue, any clue.

Around them, were erect slabs of ashen stone.

"We're... in a graveyard." he murmured back.

The graveyard had obviously seen heavy use: the graves were over three dozen wide, and four dozen deep, and that was only the ones he could see from here. He couldn't guess just how many bodies were buried here, nor did he have any urge to.

All that he knew, was that there was something horribly wrong here: the very air practically hummed with malign, chaotic magic. He had sat his way through enough of Trelawney's classes to recognise a bad omen when he saw one. Even worse, he could barely make out a soft, pulsating glow from dead ahead, colored an unearthly, bloody crimson.

He was trapped. The Portkey was locked behind a ward that he doubted he'd have the time, nor skill to disarm, and he didn't know any way around it. He couldn't Apparate, nor create a Portkey of his own, as he lacked the skill to do either. Sighing, he turned to his competitor, keeping his voice hushed.

"Cedric. I'm not sure what's in this graveyard, but it's not good. I can't Apparate: can you get me out of here?"

Cedric's winced back. "I'm not really confident in being able to do a side-along. I can Apparate myself, but that's pretty much it."

"Can you Apparate out, to get help? Try and find Dumbledore. Tell him what happened, he'll know what to do." he whispered.

Cedric's face twisted into one of distaste and worry.

"Are you sure? If I do, then you'll be here alone, and I'm not sure I'll be able to get back in time. I don't even know where we are."

"I'm not going to be able to stop whatever this is. Both of us won't either." murmured Harry. "And if you bring word back, I might be able to stall long enough for help to arrive."

Cedric began to open his mouth, but his words died in his mouth. With one final look of pity, Cedric disappeared with a crack that echoed through the silent graveyard.

Harry took in a breath, let it out slowly. He was alone, in a place he had never been before. But there was no way out. He took one final, bracing breath, then slowly began to walk forward, hopefully to take cover behind one of the larger gravestones.

Harry wasn't even able to see his attacker, only the unmistakable, crimson light which flew towards him.

* * *

He came to, tightly bound, before a massive metal cauldron, the source of the light he had seen earlier. It bubbled with a murky, viscous solution which reeked of death and decay: unidentified, but definitely foul. Drawn around the cauldron was a pentagram in red chalk, the corners of which were anchored with long black candles.

He blinked at it twice, before a shuffling of feet to his right drew his attention.

In walked Pettigrew, the betrayer of his family, carrying some sort of unspeakable doll, seemingly escaped from the playpen of a monster.

The doll was a terrifying, makeshift thing: a mockery of life, hewn from inhuman flesh, practically glowing with malevolence and dark magic. Its red eyes glared back at him with a mixture amusement, viciousness, and hunger, and its misshapen hands cradled a wand, pointed directly towards him.

And then the doll spoke, in a voice Harry could unmistakably remember from his nightmares.

"Begin the ritual." commanded Voldemort.

Every part of his mind screamed for him to escape, but there was nothing: the ropes were tightly bound, tied to the cross-shaped grave behind him. Pettigrew, or whoever had bound him, hadn't taken any chances: he was bound not only along his midsection and arms, but also along his legs, neck, and feet. Not to mention the gag!

He could only watch in horror as the ritual commenced. Only shudder to imagine what the ritual would do.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son._ " intoned Pettigrew, before he reached into one of the nearby graves, retrieving a handful of aged bones from within. One by one, he wiped the bones of grime, before placing them into the cauldron.

Harry winced as he saw Pettigrew withdraw a long, sharp, wicked-looking knife from a pocket. Every part of his body was screaming in panic. He did not know what the ritual was, but every instinct told him it was Dark.

" _Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master._ " spoke Pettigrew, as he ran the knife across his right hand, cleanly severing it. The freed hand fell from the wrist, where it fell into the soup, floating for but a moment. Before Harry's eyes, the flesh of the hand blackened, before dissolving entirely.

Harry's face went white as the importance of what Pettigrew had just said finally clicked. Revive?

In a blink, the knife had made a shallow, painful cut across his chest, the blood of which was quickly contained by the same vial that had once held the powdered bones.

" _Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. You will resurrect your foe._ " continued Pettigrew, as he dumped the blood in. The cauldron began to bubble furiously.

"Now, my servant. The final ingredient." prompted Voldemort, holding out the wand with one misshapen hand.

Pettigrew nodded. " _Soul of the master, stolen from death. You shall regain your power._ "

Pettigrew lifted the abomination into the air, and gingerly placed it into the cauldron, where it disappeared with nought a splash. Harry could see him remove the wand from its grasp, just as it made contact with the sludge.

The cauldron bubbling continued to rise in frequency. Around the cauldron, the light of the candles began to brighten, slowly shifting from a dull glow, to near-blinding.

The light shifted in hue, first from a bloody red, then to the viridian of the killing curse, and then finally to a blazing, brilliant silver. The entire time, the graveyard remained silent, save for pounding of Harry's heart in his ears.

And then there was laughter.

Horrifying, mocking laughter.

Harry could only watch, paralysed, as a pale, adult arm rose from the depths of the cauldron, bone dry, followed shortly by another.

After but a moment of silence, Voldemort reborn spoke once more. "My robes, servant."

And with that, the dam broke, allowing the full impact of the situation to hit Harry. No longer content to hold still, he thrashed against the bindings, but found no release from the tight ropes around him.

The figure of Voldemort slowly donned his robes, as Harry's continued to fruitlessly struggle.

With a final flourish, Voldemort reborn stood, his new arms open in triumph, greatly resembling the ghost Harry had seen in the Chamber.

Gingerly, Pettigrew handed his master back his wand, which the Dark Lord twirled in his hand, before pointing it back towards Harry.

"Pettigrew." began Voldemort, "Do you know the thing I missed the most, during my time little time-out, after this little half-blood's 'mistake'?"

"N… no…" stuttered Pettigrew, clutching his bleeding hand gingerly.

Harry glared at him, praying that, even should he die, the traitor would have the mercy of bleeding out.

"It was my hands, Pettigrew. I missed being able to touch things, to use a wand..." he grinned, as he turned his new hand over, admiring every inch.

Pettigrew blinked at his master, before whimpering something inaudible.

"Yes, Pettigrew, I agree. A hand is something terrible to waste. Perhaps I will make you a new one, should you continue to impress. But, do you know what I truly missed the most, not having hands?" he smirked, as he leaned back against one of the tombstones.

"What, my master?"

"Being able to do **this.** "

In a blur, Voldemort's hand shot towards him, making contact and wrapping around his neck in mere seconds. At first, the touch was soft, nearly calculating, but was immediately replaced by an iron grip. Harry could feel the ropes fading away, as Voldemort raised him to eye level.

"Oh, dear, Mister Potter." mocked Voldemort, his face wide in a vicious grin. "It seems your mother's little blood protection contract has… lapsed."

In barely a moment, Harry was flying through the air, towards a nearby mausoleum, arse over teakettle.

Bright spots filled his vision as he collided with the solid marble, knocking the wind from him like a hammer.

"So, Potter, are you so willing to oppose me now?" echoed the voice from behind him.

Even as his head still swam, Harry stumbled to a crouch. Voldemort still hadn't cast a single spell, the entire time.

"I… won't let you win…" he choked out, still in the process of regaining his breath.

The Dark Lord's eyes opened in feigned shock.

"Win? You think I'm trying to **win**?" he spoke, sarcasm cascading off of his words like a waterfall. "No, Potter, I'm not trying to win."

"I've already won."

Around him, Harry could hear a near continuous stream of cracks as one by one, at least two dozen Death Eaters appeared around him, each wearing a mask identical to the ones who had attacked during the World Cup.

Harry blinked twice at the circle of outstretched wands, all pointing directly towards him, each a mere second from uttering the two words of the killing curse.

Harry closed his eyes, silently praying for help to arrive. Silently hoping to be saved, against all odds. "So you're going to kill me then. Get your revenge, are you?" he murmured.

"No." smirked the Dark Lord, as he moved ever closer to his prey. "I'm not going to kill you."

Harry's eyes opened, wide in shock.

Voldemort's lips retreated, revealing perfect teeth.

"I'm going to force you to _live_."

Harry couldn't understand what he was hearing. Voldemort? Letting him go?

"Oh no, you're not going to be unscathed." Voldemort 'reassured' him, "You're going to tell everyone about my little reunion here, aren't you? Going to tell your beloved Headmaster that his enemy has finally shown himself?"

Harry couldn't help but involuntarily nod.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll believe you." continued Voldemort, "But everyone else?"

"My friends will believe me!" spat Harry, re-invigorated by the change in direction, energised by the hope that he would have at least a small chance to survive.

"Oh, I'm sure they will," demurred Voldemort. "But what of the rest of Britain? What will they do, when they hear your claim? That a Dark Lord, the most powerful Wizard in over two centuries, is back from the dead, after having personally escaped from Death itself?"

He cut Harry off, before he could even speak. "They're ruled by fear, the fools. No. They will not believe you. They will spurn you. They will hate you. They will fear you. You, and every person you recruit to your cause will be seen as traitors. Slowly but steadily, you'll find yourself viewed no longer as a hero, but as a pariah. Who were once friends will slowly become enemies, as your desperate pleas continue to fall upon deaf ears. We will win, and Britain will never even know that we will have returned."

His grin split his face now, malice gleaming in his eyes as he leaned directly towards Harry, face a scant few inches away from his own.

"And only when you have no hope left, only when you have been _reduced to the living in the very gutters you deserve to be_... When every living, breathing citizen of Britain regards you and what few members of your little circle of _friends_ still retain enough stubbornness to not kill themselves in shame, as what few fools willing to stand beside you become little more than crazed and delusional, jumping at every shadow for fear of me casting it? Only then will I grant you the _mercy_ of an agonising death."

Voldemort rose suddenly, before pointing towards the nearest Death Eater. "You there! Grab him, and his wand. Then throw both of them at the cup. We're done here. I have… other, more important, plans… in mind."

Harry couldn't even open his mouth to scream, before he was thrown bodily into the cup, mind still reeling.

And then the feeling of wrenching returned.

* * *

He stumbled out of the Portkey, near-blind, before tottering over to a side to vomit.

Only when his stomach was truly empty did his vision completely return.

Around him, was the crowd that had watched the Maze, all entirely silent, watching him.

Before him, was Dumbledore, the other judges, and the Minister of Magic, Fudge.

Fudge was the first to act, approaching him slowly, nearly-invisibly wringing his hands in worry.

"So, Mister Potter. What happened?" Fudge spoke, his hands making over-elaborate motions as he spoke.

Harry slowly glanced towards Dumbledore, whose face was ashen, and then towards his friends, who were clearly visible to the left.

To his right, was Fudge, hands wringing in terror, his hideous Undersecretary, mouth twisted into a horrifying mockery of a smile, and Lucius Malfoy, his face wearing a near identical grin to the one Voldemort had worn.

"Mister Potter?" asked Fudge.

Harry took a deep breath. He had to make a choice. He could tell the truth, he could risk everything.

But he glanced around him, stared at the judging faces. He could see Malfoy staring at him, the same way a cat would stare at a meal.

He was brave, yes, but even bravery had its limits.

"Quidditch Hooligans, Minister. We were ambushed by Quidditch Hooligans." he spoke, trying to keep his voice level and emotionless. Tried to keep out the betrayal he felt for himself.

"Are you sure, Mister Potter? Because your friend Dumbledore appears to believe otherwise." smirked Lucius.

Harry once again looked around.

The crowd was full of terrified faces, the same faces that had turned on him two years ago in the duelling club. There were hundreds of them, watching him with bated breath, waiting for him to make a mistake. He could already hear their murmurs, practically even their shouts of accusation, their glares of hatred.

All the while, Voldemort's words still echoed in his head, reciting themselves endlessly. Hammering in the sheer hopelessness of his situation.

His friends stood as an island away from the mass, each wearing looks of horror, terror, or anger.

"He must be mistaken." he spoke, as he felt a crushing weight descend upon him. "He must be wrong, because it was only Quidditch Hooligans."

Even as he mechanically accepted the thousand Galleons, even as he walked past the horrified Cedric, even as he slowly stumbled back towards the castle, even as he collapsed into his bed bonelessly.

He could still hear the words.

And he would hear those words for a long while yet.

* * *

 **V2**


	33. (Y3, P8) Reaction

_And thus ends year 3._

 _There will be a few outtakes for the summer, which I might place in the 'Fragments and Shards' story, or I might spin them off into their own story._

 ** _Edit:_** _I've split the omakes for the story into a new story named "Written In Fire". Find it on my profile. I cloned all of the relevant drabbles in Fragments over to it, and from now on, relevant drabbles will be posted there instead._

* * *

Apparently, things have gone bad to worse.

We've got bad stuff coming up on the horizon, but I'll get to that later.

They've discovered that Moody was an impostor, who disappeared some time during the maze.

Which is actually pretty smart, since no one would ever expect someone as crazy as him to be a mole. Good on him, but I'm still hoping he ups and dies.

They found the real Moody in a crate in 'his' room, badly damaged, as in missing a prosthetic limb and looking like he was bludgeoned half to death. So in other words, about only a little bit more damaged than he had appeared earlier. Gold star for realism.

Anyway, he's suitably pissed.

And by "pissed", I mean he sucker-punched the poor bastard who finally found him, and then held the kid hostage with his own wand until Dumbledore was finally able to convince him to lower the weapon. This of course happened over the course of two hours, and the kid's apparently still in the hospital wing, because of the generic Wizard panic-attack triggering his asthma.

Anyway, with one scarred, angry time bomb defused (It's a relief that Dumbledore was around, if he wasn't, then it was entirely likely Moody would start harvesting limbs…), Moody's attention instead turned towards the situation around him. From what I last heard, he was last seen doing his level best to murder everyone using nothing but his words, threats, and over-elaborate gestures. I shudder to imagine about what will happen when he stumbles across one those Skrewt things we saw in the maze.

Seriously, even I know those things are an abomination against life.

With the way his paranoia is acting up (he occasionally jumps students in the hallways, and then grills them about personal information), I'm honestly not sure whether I should give him my account of the tournament.

On one hand, it might be amusing.

On the other hand, he'll probably go on a murderous rampage.

Either way, he's definitely not going to be here next year: the restraining orders are already coming in, and he's apparently not allowed in about a third of the school.

These areas will only keep getting bigger, as he keeps breaking into them.

Anyways, onto the other situation. I mean, he's technically more important, and a lot more dangerous, but it's not like he's come after me yet.

Potter finally told us what had happened, about two days after the end of the tournament.

His arch-enemy, Voldemoron is back.

Because OF COURSE HE IS.

He apparently used some sort of dark ritual to make himself a new body.

I don't know the specifics of what he did, but from the sound of it, I'd probably need to dig deep to even find a hint at what he did, and even worse, I'm not sure I even want to know.

To be honest though, what I'm really curious about just how stable the new body is, if it's held together by nothing but (what I assume to be) blood magic, hatred, and Potter's eternal curse of unluck.

Curse.

I swear to god, one of these days, we're dragging Potter to an exorcist. There is no possible way that this is not supernatural in nature. I've seen people without luck, but even they occasionally have lucky breaks.

Potter's luck right now resembles a guy who buys a lottery ticket, then is hit by a fish dropped by a bird, before falling into the only open sewer grate within a hundred yards.

Bribing Ginny to drag him there by herself might be hard, though.

What with me being able to be in the same general area of any exorcism ritual worth its salt, not mention residual energy…

But it might be worth it, in the long run.

I think I'll talk to Ginny about it. It's definitely a priority.

However, I don't know if we'll be able to get it done this year…

I normally would've suggested taking him there during the summer, but with the fact that we've got an unbound reanimated undead evil wizard back from the dead running around causing damage, and we've also got his little army of cultists...

This sorta makes taking Potter anywhere extremely dangerous.

Oh, and speaking of taking Potter anywhere, he pretty much flat-out-told us that it was his fault that Voldemort was back.

So glad that Ginny slapped him. So, so glad. The last thing we needed to hear was whinging.

With the pity party averted, he's decided to spend the next two years training as hard as he possibly can, so that he'd be able to defend himself next time.

Ginny, I, Other Weasley, and Granger all stepped up as volunteers to help him train. I know why Ginny did so, and Granger and Other Weasley are probably doing it out of loyalty.

I, on the other hand…

I guess I just like hanging around Ginny. Still not entirely certain on Granger or Ginny's brother, but as long as he keeps his mouth shut, it should be fine.

I don't have even the slightest illusion of us being ready to fight on even terms within two years, but learning how to defend ourselves is something I support wholeheartedly.

Now, the only thing we need to make sure, is that we don't get big heads about this.

* * *

I said goodbye to the Veela today: with the tourney over, they're headed back to France.

Fleur gave us a hug, and a promise that, should we ever come to France, the doors of her home would be open for us. Her sister is pretty much fully recovered now, and while Fleur didn't win, she's glad that nothing particularly terrible happened during the third task, besides the whole 'Potter and Diggory disappear' thing.

I bid her goodbye with a forced smile on my face. If only she knew.

Monique on the other hand, was one of the last few to board the ship back.

Luna was there with me too, and handed Monique her the copy of the article on Veela, as promised. I got my copy too, which I've got sitting on my bed right now. I'll probably read it later, before I go to sleep.

I did give it a quick once-over before I stowed it; it was interesting, but nothing world-shattering.

However, if Luna's little gesture of pointing at her eyes, then at the paper means what I think it means, the alternate article might be a lot more interesting.

Of course, before Monique left, she had leaned close, before asking about what really had happened during the last task.

I didn't have a lie prepared, so I told her the truth.

Monique stared at us blankly for a moment.

About three seconds later, she thanked me for telling her the truth, but practically unleashed a flurry of panicked questions immediately after. The center point was why, in god's name, I hadn't told anyone, and how on Earth I was acting calm.

I don't know Potter's opinion, but if the tournament's any indication, I doubt the people in the tourney would piss on Potter if he was in on fire.

That's what he's at right now, without outside interference. If he had decided to drop that particular bomb right there, I really don't really want to imagine what they'd do to him. These Wizards already hate change, and a big change like this, well…

I don't think it'd end well. They were already turning on Dumbledore for daring to speak up, and he's Dumbledore. For crying out loud, if he wasn't an archmage, I get an unshakable feeling they'd be pulling out the torches and pitchforks already.

On that sour note, Monique gave the two of us a rather stiff hug, before turning away to board the vessel back to France.

'Course, as soon as the boat was entirely out of sight, Luna all-but interrogated me to figure out the whole story.

One more explanation later, and I've found one more volunteer for Potter's little training squad.

We'll definitely need all the help we can get.

* * *

Today, we (Granger, Ginny, her brother, and I) decided that Potter had done enough moping around, and it was time to do something about it.

I get it, we've got something horrifying happening. Unfortunately, there's jack shit we can do about it right now, and if we stop living, then he's already won.

I know having Voldemort running around is probably one of the worst things that could possibly happen, but at least he's not warping or tearing the fabric of reality or summoning creatures beyond human comprehension, like some other Wizards from history. He's dangerous and a psychopath, yes, but from what I've read about him, he tends to kill his targets in direct combat, and avoids collateral damage.

Basically, although I know that there's a problem, it's not going to cause a problem right away. I've pushed it aside for now, since I don't know how to deal with it.

We solved the problem the easiest way we could. Weasley grabbed Potter, and dragged him down to the common room, where the four of us escorted him to the Pick-Up Quidditch games.

I of course was carrying my own broom, as I was curious about what playing the game was like.

Still, taking him down wasn't enough, and after about three minutes of trying to convince him to play, I gave up. Still, I was down there, and it was amateur hour, so there was no reason to not give it a shot. Granger decided to pass, as did Ginny, who was looking more concerned with cheering up Potter than playing (which was a pretty solid sign to leave the two alone for a bit).

Her brother did sign up though, for 'Keeper'. Unfortunately, he was on the other team. Still, he looked a little bit nervous, but to be honest, I have little-to-no idea what I'm doing either. After all, it's not like anyone expects the kids who sign up to be good, right?

Yeah, I don't think I'm very good at Quidditch.

I was playing 'Beater'. Which is an awesome name.

I mean, I wasn't entirely terrible, in that I managed to keep a few of the hand-boulders away from our team for about half of the game, before I overbalanced when swinging and flipped myself off of my broom.

Yes, I did get some shocked calls while I fell a couple dozen feet to hit the grass, but honestly, I've fallen a lot further. One of the kids waiting for the next game even managed get airborne fast enough to save my broom before it hit anything solid. All in all, I was back up in about a minute and a half. For the rest of the game, I ended up focusing more upon staying stable, over aiming where exactly I knocked the balls back.

Hardest part of the fall, in my opinion, was stopping myself from trying to balance with my wings. It's a pretty hard instinct to turn off.

Anyway, after that rather quick fifteen-minute game (we lost because of a fluke apparently), Ginny and Potter had apparently finally had enough of watching terrible players butcher their favorite sport, and signed up for the next one almost immediately.

I think Potter managed to keep his grim expressions for about three minutes, before he finally managed to calm down and start doing his thing.

Their game ended even faster than ours, ten minutes at most.

To be honest though, that was just because Potter and Ginny absolutely destroyed them.

Ginny must've gotten some serious practice with her Christmas present in over the winter break, because she was dodging pretty much everything thrown at her.

The score was something 240:30, mostly because it was pretty damn hard to score on Potter's team when Ginny was always holding the ball.

Either way, the game served well to knock Potter out of his funk. Ginny was practically jumping for joy after she landed, although this time (probably because we're in public) she spared me the victory dance.

Because no one deserves that.

* * *

Dumbledore called all five of us into his office today.

According to Potter before we went in, Potter was already interviewed by Dumbledore about a day after the tourney, so this was probably an update, rather than anything really dangerous.

Dumbledore's less than pleased about taking the fall for the whole 'cry Voldemort' thing, but does in fact see the value of keeping our cards close to our vests. He said that, with luck, there won't be total war, and the situation can be resolved without civilian damage.

Either way, he went over some things with us.

'Course, before he started, I asked to get Luna too, much to the surprise of the others. What, did they not expect me to bring in anyone? I trust her, which is good enough for me.

Anyway, two minutes later, and plus one Ravenclaw, he went over some cold, hard facts.

Number one, the most obvious one, Voldemort's back, and he's looking into why exactly this could even happen. He 'promised' to tell us what he could find about it. I doubt that he'll tell us the details about whatever evil magic is keeping that bastard together, but I don't need to know that. Only how to kill him.

Regardless, he basically stated that, since Voldemoron's back, things are going to get a lot more dangerous, and he'll need to spend a lot more resources protecting the school.

Basically, his pockets are approaching empty, because he needs to do his actual job, rather than cover for us. Potter looked a bit grim regarding the lack of cavalry, but let's be honest here, if we get jumped, we don't have time to get reinforcements anyway.

Number two, and the reason for said empty pockets: some of the more high-profile cultists have made moves against his credibility, which means that he is likely to be monitored next year. He doesn't know who they're sending to monitor him, but either way, he'll be pretty heavily shackled, and he'll probably be unlikely to interfere in any significant way, not without alienating a lot of his supporters.

As someone who understands the power of belief and magic, I couldn't help but wince at that. That'd take a huge chunk out of his magic, if it were to happen.

Either way, he's being accused of fearmongering, and basically just stated that if we are to train, we need to do it low-profile, lest he be accused of jumping at threats that aren't there. Considering that there have been moves against him in the past (I was petrified during that time, so I wasn't aware he had been removed two years ago), and the last time the government had gained a major say in the school's safety, they had planted demons, he can't risk being discovered/framed.

Number three was actually a compliment. Apparently, he was told about the little discs we had made, and fully supports the creation of said objects, along with our ambitions to allow multiple signalling types. He also more or less told us to not tell anyone about them, as items like that are extremely vulnerable to being stolen, and then used to bait a trap.

Yeah, that's definitely a comforting thought.

Number four was that since Voldemort is kicking around now, and spits in the face of Potter's 'blood protection', Potter's going to be transferred to Black's house this summer, rather than a place called 'Dursley's'.

I mean, it probably could've been an actual family name, but well…

Part of me still believes that he lives in an alley somewhere.

The Weasleys, Granger, and I were all invited to the house as well, an offer I might take them up on some point during the summer.

His parting word were that, despite the situation, he's certain everything will turn out alright.

If only I could be so optimistic.

* * *

Another year, another batch of exams. Yay.

It was only Ginny's notes that spared me from a failing grade at History this year, and the rest of my grades were actually pretty decent. Got an Acceptable.

Although it was definitely amusing to see Babbling's scribbled 'Continue doing what you're doing, but be careful!' in the margins. Apparently, I'm a prodigy (Not really, considering that I'm scribing half the time in my mother tongue...), and got one of the highest marks in my year for Runes.

Ancient Magic was mediocre, with an EE. This was because my casting was good, but my theory was bad.

Transfiguration was about the same, another EE. Again, good casting, low theory. I might've also taken a ding for not wanting to transfigure living things into inanimate objects.

Charms, same deal.

Astronomy was an Acceptable, which I'm entirely fine with.

Defense was an Outstanding, although that was just because how how Moody did the end of year exams.

Notably, he called us in, one by one, and then granted one letter grade per five seconds we lasted against him. He was holding back, of course.

I held up for the full 30 seconds, and from what I can tell, Potter and Ginny also managed to pull it off.

Still, it was probably the most enjoyable exam this year, for sure.

Potions was definitely unlike the others.

During the exam potion, I handed in my sample, and was treated to a good thirty seconds of him examining it, before grumbling something, and scribbling my grade out on a paper.

According to what he said, I was given a Dreadful, but he handed me my grade with a thumb halfway over the left of the paper, much to the snickering of the Slytherins around me, and to the gobsmacked expression of Ginny.

However, from where I was standing, it was pretty obvious he was covering something. In fact, it was covering an O, to make it look like a D.

Apparently, according to what he wrote on it, if I brag, or spread rumours that he willingly gave a Gryffindor an O, I will be suffering severe repercussions.

Also, that he has no patience for fools, and that I should not try his patience.

I'm entirely fine with that.

Ginny of course heard the truth later, after a promise that she'd not spread it around. Last thing we need is to damage the image Snape's spent so long cultivating.

I think that's it for this year. The train's arriving in an hour, and it's time to go.

* * *

 **V2**


	34. (Y4, P1) Horror

_Welcome to Year Four._

 _It's going to be a bumpy ride._

* * *

Dad did some looking into the whole 'Death Eater' thing that we talked about last year. Did his best to see how deep the corruption went.

He's not entirely sure who is and isn't compromised. From what he can tell though, over half of the people in his section of the ministry are either directly on their side, don't give a damn, or are supporters of the Death Eaters. And these are the people responsible for hunting down dark creatures, which means whatever exotic critters they bring in will be likely unopposed.

That's... incredibly bad.

Either way, he didn't really have much to give Dumbledore's little band of misfits.

Did I mention that?

While we were over at G

Why do I even bother?

Let's just say it was under a Fidelius, and I can't actually name it.

Although I can definitely call it Grumpy Old Retirement Home #12, which is as close as the Fidelius goes before it chokes me.

Anyway, I spent the second half of July and three-quarters of August over there, I'd have gone longer, but I needed to stretch my wings, and even though it's not really an issue, running my glamour non-stop does actually cut into my stamina. It felt really, really good to be able to go home, be myself, and have a quick midnight flight.

Mum's also been doing some digging: after hearing Sirius's 'confession' firsthand, they ended up spending the rest of August making their way through Azkaban, searching for people who didn't really belong there.

To our luck, no one still in Azkaban is in the same category as Sirius, which is definitely a good thing.

I mean, it's still terrible, but at least they only messed up that badly once. If they had messed it up more than once, well…

I don't think we'd have done anything, but my faith in this society would likely nose dive, even more so than it already has.

From what I heard from her before I left, they _had_ followed a duo of rather annoying Aurors around wearing a stolen Dementor cloak with a skeleton glamour up, much to said Aurors' abject terror. Apparently, the Aurors deployed there aren't trained to react correctly when hissing, laughing, and screaming noises come from above them, where a Dementor was doing nothing but stare.

Supposedly, one of them managed to get their wand caught in their robes, and, in a glorious moment of will, power and magical proficiency, fling their only source of protection a couple feet down the hallway. The other one did the smart thing and just ran to the surface screaming bloody murder.

Mum was laughing the entire time they told me the story, by the way.

Anyway. Between my parents out and about collecting information (And in mum's case, messing with people as they did so), I was left home alone.

I am really, really glad our house is _extremely_ fireproof. And sturdy enough to handle explosions.

The train's about to get here, but I haven't seen Potter and Co yet.

Oh, there they are.

* * *

So, very, very worth it.

We're on the train now, but Ginny and Potter are still beet red, Weasley is in his usual stunned silence, but is glaring at Potter slightly, and Granger's doing her absolute best to hold in the laughter.

Apparently, no, Potter and Ginny _haven't_ slept with one another yet.

I can't stress enough that neither of the two have refuted what I said though. I find this both hilarious, and sort of... depressing, really.

I don't know why I feel that way though. Either way, it'll probably pass.

Granger's finally recovered (although not without a final choking snort), and is retrieving something from her backpack. I should probably put this down.

* * *

Granger's on the ball this time: she's apparently spent the entire summer going over every spellbook, years one to six. She tried to get her hands on a year seven book, but they wouldn't sell her it, due to some sort of rule. Honestly, I'm pretty certain it's so that no over-eager student flips through one and blows themselves up.

Right.

Granger can't cast many of the higher-year spells, but she's got a big list of potentially-useful spells compiled. I looked through them, and there's not a single one on the list that isn't there for a reason.

The list was pretty solid, but the problem was that they were solutions, not answers.

A lot of the spells were either high-cost, or were really specialised. They did the job they were supposed to do, but weren't very flexible, meaning that while she (who I can only assume is able to remember everything) might benefit the most from the list, people like me (who has issues remembering big lists of spells) can't really remember what exact spell to use in each situation.

And that's when I brought out the list of spells I was planning on practicing with Ginny. Sure, there was a lot of overlap (some of the spells were just too good to pass up), and it was only about half the length, but where Granger's list was all about the best way to do things, mine was about flexible answers. Even better, I had shown the list to Luna last year, and there were a few spells on the list which I doubt any sane person would even believe to exist.

I had to test a few to make sure Luna wasn't pulling my leg. To my joy, she definitely was not.

I had already written down the incantations next to a majority of the spells, although I had a much harder time trying to explain their hand motions. With luck, we'll be able to get them from either Luna, or the books.

Of course, Granger raised an eyebrow when she got down to some of my more niche spells. Spells which I'm certain aren't in the books she had read. She did seem rather excited when she hit the Backlash Curse (my father's anti-shield/enchanted item dispelling curse), along with the Insensus Curse (One of Luna's mother's old creations, which causes a person's sight and hearing to be reversed).

She's still going over my list, pen in hand, occasionally stopping to ask what some of the weirder spells do.

Meanwhile, Potter and Ginny have finally returned to natural color, although Ginny's still glaring at me, for having put her through the wringer.

I think I'll go over my stuff again, give Granger some time to make sure everything's set up.

* * *

Malfoy is apparently still here. He was escorted by the usual two blobs of meat, one of which was picking its nose with its wand. Part of me worries that it'll somehow blow itself up some time today, incriminating us. Luckily, to do that, the blob would need to actually cast something, so we should be safe. Oh, and Malfoy's finally acknowledged my existence!

I can tell, because he called me a blood traitor! While technically correct in more than one way, it is reassuring to know that I'm in the same category of Potter, who is still goddamn terrifying, and Sirius Black, who is a nice guy, once you get to know him.

I of course told Malfoy that I might come to be interested in him, if not for his hair. If he could do something about the godawful mess, I'd think about it, I said.

Needless to say, while Malfoy can handle threats to his person, to his honor, and to his life, he cannot handle anyone insulting the sheer, pureblooded majesty that is his heavily-product-ed head-covering, and thus fled in shame.

Just kidding. He called me a blood-traitor whore unfit to serve as a slave, and then went back to ignoring me. Apparently Potter is more fun to make fun of.

Either way, I've cast my lots, and I can't back out, whether I want to or not.

Anyway, after he left, Granger cast a quick Doubling Charm on my list, then handed me back the original copy (I think. It doesn't have as strong of a signature, so I'm assuming it's the original one), and stated that she'd go over what I've given her.

The trip's coming to an end, picking up to move.

* * *

Oh hell.

Oh bloody hell.

Yeah, we're all fucked. Especially me.

Ginny must've heard the 'Aura is a Veela' rumor last year, because she's sitting to my left and won't let me mope alone. It's nice, I guess, but it's not fixing the problem.

Say hello to this year's Defense Teacher.

Now, the magical world is a joke, we already know this.

But it seems, this year, I'm

We're the punch line.

Now, when I entered this world, I didn't know much about the people in it. Hell, I still don't know who a majority of the people are.

Unfortunately, I recognise this one.

Delores Umbridge.

Umbridge is everything wrong with this place.

She was dressed like a

I don't even really have anything to compare to her. She was pink.

So very much pink. So hideously, hideously pink. She was like an inhuman blob-woman which fell into a vat of pink dye, and then told by either a really jackass god, or Satan himself that, yes indeed, she could be a princess if she wanted to.

Now, I have a good reason to not want to be near her: my mothers, my father, and I did some research on people most likely to cause an international incident chasing after us, if they were to find out the secret.

We then made a list of the most idiotic, the most racist, and the most batshit insane.

Umbridge was in the top three for all four lists. With an impressive history of batshit, burn-the-witch binary insanity, a network of contacts that we couldn't see the end of, and a history of being nosy enough to believe that she owns the entire universe, she was immediately placed on our fifth 'avoid at all costs' list.

And now she's here, teaching Defense.

I was _good_ at Defense too! This isn't fair. I wanted to at least be good at **one** of the spellcasting courses...

* * *

Ginny finally butted in to ask what language I was writing in.

I told her it was Infernal, because honestly, it feels wrong to lie about her for something so trivial.

My schedule is similar to last year, but honestly, I don't know what I can do. I can skip the ghost, yes, but if I skip Umbridge... Even worse, what if she shows up for the ghost's class and I'm not there? Does that paint a target on me? Is it worth it?

Fuck, is this what Potter thought when Voldemort showed up?

What do I do?

* * *

Ginny decided to levitate Cinder onto my head. Because 'that's where the salamanders end up going, anyway'. Needless to say, Cinder went along with it, and is now sleeping in my hair.

Then Ginny told me to lighten up. That I'm not allowed to be whiny, if I accuse her of being that all of the time. Also, that I'm murmuring gibberish to myself. I guess I should calm down, right?

Right. Besides the

Let's just ignore it for now.

The year started the same as always: in comes the new kids (although there's a lot more than the last few years), singing hat, the sorting, and then the announcement that Quidditch was once again in session, and that the team captains were highly advised to begin recruitment as quickly as possible.

And then Umbridge cut him off, running a cock and bull story about she had been deployed to Hogwarts by the Ministry to identify potential security risks at Hogwarts. There was a general murmur of assent from those who didn't know her, but honestly, I don't know if she'll be able to do anything beneficial. I'm almost certain she's just here to keep an eye on Dumbledore.

Anyway, Dumbledore was looking absolutely miserable when he went with the flow, and introduced the new 'teacher', he looked like he hadn't had much sleep in the last while. I can feel his pain, there.

From there, he finished his speech, but without his momentum to keep it going, he dropped the usual gibberish at the end, before sitting back down instead. I've never seen him do that before.

The meal was great as always, but it felt a bit like eating a sandwich in a bear cave. I mean, sandwich might be great, but there's still a chance of being eaten by a bear. You know what I'm saying?

I really wish that the Defense curse would kick in and kill her, but the last three instructors have left in one piece, so it's not likely.

Dumbledore called us in almost immediately after the speech.

Luckily, he managed to remember to call in all six of us, so we were there within ten minutes.

So, here's the story as to why Umbridge is here.

Apparently, his little attempt at a reveal was taken in the absolute worst way. After a few not-too-subtle nudges from a few high-station Death-Eater supporters, Dumbledore's now pretty much under the magnifying glass.

He said that he'd have an extremely difficult time trying to talk to any of us for the rest of the year: with the ministry stooge effectively holding the school hostage (he actually said stooge, much to my surprise), he's all but bound. As is, he was only able to call us in because Umbridge was still unpacking, and thus was indisposed for the next hour and a bit.

Long story short, he's pretty much at the end of his wits, because he has no idea what the idiots are going to do next. He knows who and what Umbridge is, but he can't do anything about it.

He of course did not say idiot.

I did ask what I was supposed to do… and I'm definitely not happy about it.

The only way to avoid Umbridge's eye is to keep a veneer of normalcy, so I actually need to start going to the ghost's class. Even worse, it's likely she'll be breaking into other classes as well. Low profile, is what he told the six of us. Low profile, and try not to paint a target on ourselves.

And then came the time to ask about Potter's training.

The answer was simple, but also said terrible things about what was to come.

Apparently, the Minister was 'informed' that he (Dumbledore) was attempting to build an army, so Umbridge will likely be on the lookout for the training of any large group of armed individuals.

We pretty much all collectively groaned. If she is as bad as Dumbledore was hinting, 'large' meant 'any number larger than zero', and 'armed individuals' means 'anyone with two arms and a brain'.

Essentially, if Potter's to get any training at all, we'll need to find a place to train where we can't be seen.

Dumbledore suggested a place known as the 'Come and Go' room, but warned that if Umbridge were to find the room, and realise what it was, we'd have a lot more pressing issues at hand.

It's… located…

Goddammit, Dumbledore. It's the place where Ginny was held last year!

* * *

Ginny is not amused. I of course told her what I had pieced together.

Either way, we're going to probably get started in the Chamber, as the place is nasty, yeah, but it's definitely got a hell of a lot better security than wherever the room is. We might swap to the room if need-be, but for now, we'll stick to the impenetrable fortress.

So, here we are, at Hogwarts.

Once again, we're in significant danger. Unfortunately, this time it's my fault.

If I get revealed, Voldemort is the least of Potter's worries. He might actually get executed for willingly associating with a rogue Dark Creature. It's happened before, if the stories dad's been able to dig up are anything to believe.

Ginny

Goddamit.

So I need to keep the charade tight.

Oh no.

The Veela-blood rumor. Sure, Veela aren't dark per-say, but

Since when will Umbridge care about little things like that?

I entirely forgot. I knocked a huge hole in my charade to let the steam out, and it might well be the reason I sink.

I'm in hell. I'm in hell, and I need to walk like I'm on eggshells.

Because now? If I screw up? It's a lot more than myself that's going to take the fall here.

Well, at least I haven't confirmed it: if I had, I'd probably already be strung up.

Either way, this year's going to be a mess.

But when is it ever not?


	35. (Y4, P2) Bureaucratic Nightmare

First class with Umbridge, and I already can barely stop myself from trying to murder the racist bint.

This time, I'm in History, when I'd much rather be asleep. With Dumbledore's message still echoing through my head, I'm not risking anything. I think it's about twenty minutes into the lecture right now, but with no clocks or ways of keeping track of time, it's extremely difficult to gauge it.

Of course, you know that the Ministry has got him by the balls, when Dumbledore is forced to put Umbridge's class first thing in the morning. I mean, it must just line up that way for us, but I wouldn't put it past the shrew to make sure that her face is the first thing students see.

Looks-wise, I prefer the basilisk. At least the basilisk kept itself in the dark, where it _belonged_.

To be honest, I might actually even prefer the ghost to her.

At least the ghost's voice is sorta soothing. Puts you to sleep, instead of filling you with murderous rage.

Ginny's beside me, and is still gritting her teeth in frustration. She apparently spent the first (mostly introductory) class flipping through the textbook, looking for something, anything that might be of value.

She had no luck.

The damn textbook's a joke. It's got some of the incantations for the spells, but they're only written, with no pronunciation guide. In other words, absolutely worthless for anyone who doesn't already know the spells. Add in the fact that the rest of the book is either random, unrelated snippets about past ministers and notable Dark Creature Hunters and their pasts, and I believe that this useless wad of butchered tree is actually worth less than the raw ingredients used to create it.

Let me open mine to a random page and copy down an example of what we're

dealing with here. I can't make this shit up.

* * *

Okay, ew.

Turns out, these textbooks must've been laying around for so long, that the spiders got into them. I found a nice, ripe spider nest in between the pages of my textbook, which I promptly removed with a wand flick, lit aflame, and hurled into a random direction. There was a small gasp from the rest of the students, but let's be honest here, any action in here is good action.

The ghost, of course, didn't even react to the flaming wad of web and dying spiders. I didn't really expect him to.

Ginny's brother is terrified of spiders, right? Might want to tell him to go through his book and make sure that it doesn't contain any surprises-in-waiting. I don't know when spiders usually hatch, but if they're going to do so, it'll probably be before the frost sets in.

Right, so here's pretty much the entry on the Stunning Spell. I'm not writing the whole damn thing down, it's a page and a half long. I have my own comments in

 **The Stunning Spell**

 **Stupefy**

 _Dangerous spell_

 _This red spell was invented by (blah blah blah) in the year (blah blah blah) for (blah blah blah)._

 _Knocks a victim unconscious. Counter is Ennervate._

 _Known users of this spell (blah blah blah)._

And all of the spells are like that. One sentence description for what the spell actually does, and at least three paragraphs of worthless information no one cares about.

Even better, the book isn't even accurate. Not only is the counterspell wrong (a year and a bit ago, they apparently discovered that 'Rennervate' is more magically efficient than 'Ennervate'), but they have it described as dangerous!

As far as spells go, the stunner is pretty much the lowest threat you can have a spell be: it does the same thing, every time.

And the stupid doesn't stop there: In between each spell is something like four or five rambling stories of the author's experiences using magic, or obviously-filtered stories of some other random schlub which was put in to pad the textbook. The entire time, the book tries and fails to keep the audience's attention, by talking about people who no one gave a damn about in the first place.

And that's before the random idioms creep in. Seriously, I understand a slogan for each and every spell…

Like if you had brain damage and remembered your spell rotation solely through the power of song…

But please...

Please try and be creative when you're butchering the English Language.

Honestly, if you removed the crap

Well, besides the obvious result of holding an empty, blank book, which is probably what would happen

You could drop over nine-tenths of the book's content and it'd pass on just as much information as it does now.

So yes, as Ginny flipped through more and more pages, getting progressively more and more angry, Umbridge flitted around the classroom like a bad smell, alternatively complimenting high-class Purebloods and giving backhanded, thinly-veiled pseudo-insults to everyone else.

Speaking of smell: I got a good look at her magical potential. Turns out, Umbridge has less magic in her than a three-year-old muggle Christmas fruitcake. This bloody wretch isn't supposed to be here. Not in this school, not in this world, and definitely not in that classroom.

Let me tell you, despite that she is worthless as a spellcaster, despite that she is a horrible human being, and even despite the horribly things she'll likely try to do to me, should she discover me, I never had reached the sheer amount of hatred that I reached when she opened her mouth to attempt to bribe me.

" _My dear, it is truly horrible that the little Half-Bloods and Sub-Wizards are dragging the name of your family down through the mud with their horrific gossip, isn't it?_ " whispered the overweight bint, as she leaned in close.

Yes, she actually said that. I don't know if anyone else heard her, but I don't think that I'm the only person she tried that approach with.

So, rather than flat-out murder her (which was very, very tempting), or denying that I felt that way (because that'd paint a target on my back I can't risk), I could only smile and state that my house would handle the rumors on our own terms.

So yes. The bint that'll probably try to kill me before the year is up, is doing her very best to use me to raise her own status.

All the while she assumes I'll help her, because I got immediately pegged as a racist, stupid, supremacist piece of shit. All because my family is using a big name, rather than my other name, which would call up all sorts of other problems.

The other option, of course, is that she thinks she can use me to get to Potter, because it's not known yet that Potter's still supporting Dumbledore. After all, he had all-but-denounced the Headmaster in public last year. If that's the case, then why ask me? Why not ask Ginny?

Right. Ginny's family is apparently not a 'big name' house, and therefore not worth approaching.

Yes. The two options are either she's trying to use me for power, or she's trying to use me to get at my friends.

I hate that worthless wretch.

* * *

Ginny looked up at me when I nearly snapped a quill in my frustration. I had to mouth back 'later' under my breath.

I'm going to end up burning something a lot more solid than a spider nest if I keep writing about her. I think I might be getting a little bit obsessed.

So, besides the bint-who-should-not-be-mentioned, the rest of my classes today weren't terrible!

Potions started up as usual: Snape goes through my pack, finds the new stuff (Blood Restoring potions, Lungfish potion), and a few bottles of something I accidentally brewed up over the summer.

Needless to say, the Professor recognised a homebrewed concoction, and 'confiscated' a bottle of the mix, before moving onto the next person. Here's to hoping he'll tell me whether or not it's a known potion before the week's up, plus it'd be nice to have an opinion about whether or not it's any good.

I'm actually quite proud of what I ended up making: I was brewing based on the 'properties' paradigm: each ingredient has a bunch of 'properties'. For instance, hydra bile, something of which I used a ton of, has the properties 'Healing', 'Poison', and 'Regrowth'. Other ingredients have 'counter-properties', which weaken the effects of an active property.

Needless to say, mixing together troll marrow, hydra bile, and a bit of my mother's blood, along with a few macerated cockroaches and a whole bezoar, I was able to whip something up that works wonders at mending average-to-serious wounds, but tastes like death and is still relatively poisonous. Oh, and it apparently goes down like a dozen chilies and numbs the entire face for a half-hour, if my father's statement is true. I only feel the numbing, and even then, only for ten minutes.

Of course, it took a couple dozen tries, and two near-meltings of my cauldron before I was happy with the results. And even then, I depleted two whole batches making sure the damn thing wasn't going to kill anyone.

Things'd have to be pretty bad for me to ever consider using it, but if we ever run into another 'Fleur bleeding out' scenario, I'd rather take the 'minorly poisoned, and with no feeling in face, but stable' over 'bleed out and die'.

Anyway, we sat ourselves down, and whipped up a Calming Draught, as described on the board.

Ginny struggled a bit, as usual, but I managed to help her muddle her way through to an acceptable potion. It wasn't expert-quality, but in a pinch, it'd do.

'Course, I remembered to bottle mine, and stow it away for later. Never know when you'll need Calming Draught.

Actually, one of these days, I'll need to figure out how to concentrate it, or put a poison in it or something that'll let it work on me. I swear, some days I really could use it.

* * *

Right. Potions was good.

Anyway,

Up in our dorms now. Ginny's already asleep, but I'm not tired. Probably going to stay up for another hour or so.

So.

Ancient Runes continues to be really backwards. Unlike potions, we did a refresher rather than jumping right back in, meaning that we really accomplished nothing, all first class.

This of course meant that I spent a majority of the class staring at the board. I mean, I like the class, I like the teacher, but seriously, I'm hoping we get back into it soonish.

We only ended up drafting a few small arrays, mostly to get back into the spin of things. We're mostly using Nordic runes, but I am occasionally twisting in an Infernal or Deep rune instead, which always leads to fun effects. Luckily, everyone seems to be used to it now, so it's not like it's surprising anyone.

Ancient magic continues to be something that's both more, and less advanced than usual charms. We're digging through Latin and Greek spellbooks now, which are less censored than the Egyptian tomes we were shown earlier. I don't know if it's because they want students to believe that the more recent books are more useful, and therefore more valuable, but I honestly still am interested in the rather brutal curses in the old Egyptian tomes.

The textbook is at least nine-tenths intact, rather than the thirty-something percent censored Egyptian book we were given.

Herbology is now actually interesting, with a few rather dangerous plants with strange effects coming up. There was this shrub that continuously bled corrosive black sap, which apparently is useful in certain types of poisons.

I'm not sure whether I'll start collecting ingredients as I go, at least not yet.

* * *

Astronomy is

* * *

Well, that's a bit embarrassing.

I passed out with my diary open, face in between the pages.

Good thing I don't drool, I guess, otherwise I'd need to rewrite the entire last few pages.

I swear, with History no longer to be slept through, I'm more tired than I've been for years. It's sort of just an absolute mess here, since there's so little time to stop in between everything I'm doing.

Never know what you have till it's gone, I guess.

Astronomy continues to suck. I don't quite remember the last class, but I know I've never liked it.

Charms…

We learned a small charm, that when applied to a wand, displays the last cast spell from said wand.

I mean, it only picked up me using a Burning Charm to kill a spider, but I'm actually pretty curious about what'll show if it picks up one of my spells. Would someone be able to learn one of them, if they did so?

Transfiguration is going to be interesting, much more so than the last few years.

We're finally doing nonliving-to-living, which means we can start getting into 'summoning'. I can't say I'm looking forward to the difficulty that's in store, but the benefits far outweigh the costs.

I mean, we don't start that till winter, at the very least.

* * *

That was Granger, knocking on our door.

This Saturday, we need to go to 'the place' to do 'the thing'.

I swear, one of us is going to need to teach her how to lie correctly.

Still, I'm looking quite forward to it, much more than the 'actual' DADA class.

Only two more days until then...


	36. (Y4, P3) Going Underground

_My only regret is that I might've made Snape too nice._

* * *

Salazar Slytherin would probably be spinning in his grave, wherever that is.

No matter how well constructed, fortified, and enchanted the lord of snakes' little hide-away under the school was, it is still ugly, monochrome, and actually pretty boring.

So that's why we decided to spruce it up a bit.

To be honest, Ginny's brother came up with the idea after our first practice. But I'll get to that later.

We started off simple, spending about a half-hour going back-and-forth with some basic spells: the Stunner, the Disarming Spell, and the Knockback Jinx. Mostly to get into the swing of things. I was a little rusty after having the summer off, in addition to the rather irritating magical lockdown, courtesy of Umbridge.

We split off into groups of three: Potter, Granger, and Ginny's brother in one group, Luna, I, and Ginny in the other. To be honest, I'm not sure if it's because we three know each other best, or if it's just easier to group by age.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous casting, he called for a break, and we all sat down to rest up for a bit.

And that's when the brother chimed in.

"Since we're using this place as a clubhouse, why don't we make it into one?" was his suggestion.

Now, there was a small clamour of dismay from Ginny and Granger, but they didn't know what Potter and I knew: namely, that the big entry chamber _isn't_ the only room in this complex. After all, this place extends under the entire school, not just under the bathroom. In fact, when we were looking for Ginny last year, we found at least a half-dozen different rooms of varying sizes.

If there was truly only one room in here, then I'd be against it too: at least until we smashed up that godawful statue.

So, we brought that up, much to everyone else's surprise. (Ginny colored a bit when she was mentioned. Seems she's still a bit embarrassed about the whole kidnapping thing.)

So, while we recovered our temporarily-depleted magical reserves, we did another sweep through the lower chambers, in search of a new room to convert.

After all, even if we weren't going to use it often, it'd be good to have a place to hide away. If worse came to worst, we'd have a place to hide while the heat died down.

The only problem would be finding a way out, but if the Basilisk was able to sneak out as well as it did three years ago, I'm certain we'd find a way to discreetly exit the chamber at will. I'm not sure if I'll be the one to find said way, but I'm certain we will eventually find it.

Either way, about five minutes into the search, we came across a room that was good enough for our purposes. It was, what, fourty feet square of empty floor space? I think. Might be bigger, I didn't really have a way of measuring with me.

Anyway. It was reasonably big, relatively dry compared to the rest of the place, and even better, it had another connected room to the south (About half the floor space, but it was only connected just to the room, meaning it isn't able to be flanked), which meant we'd be able to store things in the extra room. With the place marked out, and approved by all six of us, we walked back to the main room, did another ten minutes of practice, and then one-by-one flew out of the Chamber on broomsticks.

I have to say, carrying the broomsticks down felt dumb, even if it was the safest way to get down here. We'll need to fix that.

Right now, only Potter can open and close the chamber, but we plan on remedying that as quickly as we can.

* * *

Y'know, as far as this place goes, it's actually pretty homey once you start adding things to it.

To be honest, it feels good to just be able to build something, rather than actually do anything today. Dealing with Umbridge was frustrating enough for me, thanks. She's started randomly quizzing people on the chapters in the textbook. Not the actual spells, mind you, but on the authors of the stories in between said spells.

Absolutely worthless. Still, it's pretty easy to cheat and the questions are pretty straightforward. I'd be amazed if there wasn't already a Ravenclaw working his or her way through to make a cheat sheet. I've heard rumors that there's already one for History of Magic, but I've never been able to find out for sure.

Maybe I'll buy one; it'll save me time in the long run. For _both_ of these godawful subjects.

Anyway.

Every weekend, the six of us are sneaking into the chamber to practice.

(There's also some rumors that have recently started up that Potter is just dragging Ginny off to find a broom closet, but that's neither here nor there, and I don't feel like embarrassing them with that right now. Maybe later, though. It's providing us a smokescreen of sorts.)

But we were also going down during the week, to make the chamber more liveable as well.

Each of us brought our own little touches down the chamber.

I started with the most obvious, and most mandatory change: I got mom to head out into Muggle London to purchase an extremely long rope fireman's ladder, along with about ten gallons of sawdust. The sawdust was nearly immediately dumped onto the slippery ramp, solving at once both the ooze problem, and the slippery surface problem.

Of course, we had a ladder, and no way of anchoring it correctly. Sticking charms would probably work, but those tend to not handle holding too much weight. Luckily, it seems the Weasleys are well-versed in home repair and construction.

Ginny's brother, (with Potter and Granger holding on tightly to his legs to keep him from sliding down to possible injury), volunteered himself to lean into the newly-sawdusted chute, and nail the top of the ladder into the seams of the bricks at the highest point on the slope with long, sturdy nails. To everyone's relief, no one slipped or dropped him, and the ladder was installed without incident.

Yes, we also reinforced it with Sticking Charms, but the important thing is that it's anchored even if the charms fail.

It definitely was a morale booster to be able to get in and out of the chamber at will. Sure, the ladder only covers a tenth of the width of the rather-massive slope, but that just means that, should a quick entry be required, a person could still slide down the side. Hopefully the sawdust will stop it from sliming up the person's robes, but I'd rather have slime than lose a method of escape entirely.

I can already imagine the disasters that'll happen. And they always do.

Potter's contribution to the Chamber's decorations was furniture. Apparently, he called in some favors from the groundskeeper, who is an avid wood-carver. It was a bit tricky to levitate the two carved tables and a chest of drawers, but with the ladder in place, it was much less dangerous than he had expected it to be. He must've expected to have to coat them in Cushioning Charms and then slide them down the ramp. That probably could've worked, but again, it would've been dangerous, and would have had a pretty good chance at wrecking the furniture instead.

Granger set up a half-dozen makeshift candelabras, which are alight with permanent Bluebell Flames. Sure, they don't add much heat, but the fact that I can actually see what I'm writing down here now is definitely a massive point in their favor. The room, and the room beside it, have now fully graduated from 'Gloomy' to 'Awesome Secret Base'.

The fact that I've always wanted a hidden, super secret lair has absolutely nothing to do with my opinion. Definitely not.

It might actually be a racial thing on my part to desire lairs in secluded, difficult to reach places. It'd make sense if it was. After all, most renegade demons tend to end up in caves.

Ginny and her brother, on the other hand, went for utility. They brought down a couple desks and three dozen chairs, looted from some of the many abandoned classrooms. Again, we levitated them down slowly. Unfortunately, we got bored halfway through the chairs, and just started sliding them down.

One chair landed wrong, and its backboard will probably stay bent like that until we finally settle down enough to waste time fixing it. From the looks of things, we'll probably get that done in February: we have far too many chairs down here, so it's not like we need it right now.

They also slapped up some Quidditch posters, which are currently doing their best to add at least _some_ color to this place.

Luna's contribution was an absolutely **massive** dreamcatcher brought from home, woven from at least eight different colors of rope or string or yarn or something. In her words, it'll help keep away the 'Snabbering Slumberbugs'. We all took one look at the thing, and then all immediately turned to Potter, who cringed away in embarrassment.

We glued it to the inner wall, just above our door with the strongest Sticking Charm Granger could muster. Hopefully it'll bring us good luck.

Hell knows, we'll need luck.

The final step was Potter teaching us the two double-syllable passcodes to open and close the chamber. Sure, none of us actually could understand what he was saying when he did so, but you don't really need to, if you're only opening and closing a door.

Needless to say, we'd be in a bit of trouble if it ever came out that we knew how to vocalize a bit of Parseltongue, but let's be honest here, since we're only using it to open the goddamn Chamber of Secrets, it's not like that'd be a very large charge in comparison.

* * *

Snape gave me detention out of the blue today.

However, the effect of menace he was trying to do sort of died, considering how he did so while carrying the sample of the potion I had given him last week in his off hand. After all, there's not too many potions that particular shade and murkiness. I checked. Apparently, certain types of potions share physical properties too, which makes identifying them _so_ much easier.

It truly is a shame none of the textbooks mention that particular snippet.

Either way, Ginny was a bit wary of me going to detention, but let's be honest here, as a Gryffindor, it's probably less suspicious than if I had gone the entire month without one, anyway.

So, immediately into the detention, the first question is 'Which book did you get this potion out of?'

Now, when a potion master asks you which professional's book you used to make a homebrew potion, it means you did what you tried to do **right**.

I tried not to look too smug when I took the credit for myself. If the groan was anything to go by though, then I failed at that pretty severely.

Either way, I was asked to prepare a complete list of ingredients and brewing instructions required for the potion, and then demonstrate my ability to make the potion. Then I was told that my grade would heavily depend on whether or not I'd be able to reproduce the potion up to his exacting standard.

Oh, and I had to do this rather quickly, preferably before January. Or else there would be 'Repercussions'.

I did of course tell him that a few of the ingredients were either expensive (it takes a very brave, very stupid, or very skilled person to properly harvest Hydra Bile), or nearly impossible to acquire commercially (I don't even know if it's possible to buy Pyrodaemon blood, at least not from any reputable merchant, and I get a feeling that counterfeit crap would hurt the potion more than help it)

Still, if he wants to learn how to duplicate something that could potentially save a whole lot of lives (and perhaps he might even figure out how to make it less terrible tasting, and maybe less poisonous), who am I to argue?

I mean, it's definitely not as powerful as Skele-Grow, but it does work wonders on soft tissue. It won't regrow an arm, but it will close a pretty nasty gash on an arm in seconds.

Not sure if it's strong enough to work on a ruined eye though, and I'm definitely not going to test it.

Actually, I still need to name the damn potion. Right now, it's still 'Recovery Mix', since I was sorta preoccupied brewing the damn thing, over attempting to name it.

Screw it, its new name is 'Mend'. Quick, simple. I'll rename it again if I come up with something better.

Last thing before I left, I couldn't help but glance at the massive pile of random potions on his desk. There were a few potions of the same kind I could recognise (If I remember correctly, it's a skin clearing potion), but the rest...

I had to ask him what the hell the rest of the potions were supposed to be. Because they sure as hell weren't the same color, nor the same thickness.

His response was that the students who brewed them obviously didn't know either.

* * *

The second batch of ingredients should fly in by next week: but I want to make sure I'm able to make the potion perfectly before I try and make it in front of Snape.

Thus, I'm in an abandoned classroom, brewing away. Ginny's sitting at a desk, reading the Transfiguration text instead.

I've got an open batch sitting to my left right now. Everything's already mixed up, and I just need to let it simmer for an hour and a half, then I need to add the cockroaches, stir it a bit, then superheat it for a couple of seconds.

Transfiguration is starting to pick up, hence the textbook. Today was our first day of actual creation of (sort of) living creatures.

I mean, there's something inherently funny about turning hats into rabbits.

How quick is the gestation cycle of a top hat, anyway? Can they even reproduce?

* * *

I'm back up in my dorms now. We barely made it back up before curfew.

And that was by far the fastest time for our year to go to hell.

By far. Usually, we make it to at least December before shit hits the fan.

Granger's on a warpath, Umbridge is finally showing her true colors and attacking people she doesn't like, excetera, excetera.

In storms Granger, clutching her hand like she was burned. She'd obviously been crying, but considering how her face was warped into something vicious…

I had to dump the potion and get moving. An empty cauldron is lighter (and less likely to do horrible things to people if I spill it on them), so voided my potion with a spell, picked up the damn thing, tucked it under an arm, and followed Granger.

She dragged the two of us out, grabbed the others, and took us all down into the Chamber.

Never mention the fact that while Luna, Ginny and I had no classes, the older three definitely did.

Yes, Granger skipped classes. Apparently it's Astronomy, but the mere fact that she did so is unprecedented.

Oh god, the world's going to end, isn't it. Granger skipping classes must be the third sign of the apocalypse, or something.

Anyway: it's now obvious what Umbridge's true plan is: to filter out anyone with an actual brain.

So, with no obvious exposed targets available for Umbridge to latch onto, she's begun to take out her anger at being unable to directly target the Headmaster upon the students.

In particular, any student brazen enough to defy her.

And everyone knows, no offense is as brazen as being born a Muggleborn.

ATG, it started relatively harmless. Quizzes upon chapters that weren't being read yet. Always getting the hard ones, while the other students got easier, simple questions.

Which explains why the questions I keep getting are so easy, actually.

When she started getting those right, the questions became trick questions, things in the book but were obviously wrong.

And poor Granger answered them correctly, not the way they were written. From what she says, Umbridge, face alight with that horrifying grin of hers, fell upon Granger with the malice of a predator going in for a kill.

Granger had only just gotten back from the first of her many, many detentions. Even worse, she has lost her 'Prefect' status, which I'm told is something important. She's going to be seeing that wretch every day, for the next few weeks.

It was at this time that Granger showed us her hand.

Carved pretty deep into the back of it, caked in fresh blood, was a six word phrase. "I will not defy my betters."

Yup. Umbridge is **entirely** crazy.

Right, responses:

Potter looked entirely blank as his brain stalled, Weasley looked like he wanted to kill someone, Luna looked absolutely horrified (another first), Ginny didn't really understand, but was angry nonetheless.

I just wondered what sort of crazy fucker would force someone to carve something into their own hand.

So, ATG, Umbitch has a cursed quill that carves the words written by a person into their hands. Also, Umbitch's not even trying to pretend to not be a terrible person.

Actually, what would happen if you stabbed someone with that quill? Or a wall or animal or something? Would you get the injury too? Or does it have a limit for how much damage it can inflict upon its user?

I wonder if it's worth it to try and goad Umbridge into stabbing me or a book or something with it, if that's the case.

Maybe not. She'd find a way to spin it into my fault.

* * *

Off topic again.

Even worse, Granger's now under the magnifying glass: with the heat on her, we're going to have to sculpt our weekend practices around her torture-sessions-in-all-but-name. I'm hoping that she isn't tailed when she does arrive at the chamber, but that's neither here nor there.

I had to jokingly ask whether murder was really not an option.

The silence I received back really was the only gauge I needed. No complaints, no shouts of shocked offense.

What I got instead was a hesitant "Are you sure you'd be able to get away with it?" from _Potter_.

 _Save-The-Princess, So-Called-Savior Potter_ is advocating the bloody murder of this woman. That really says something about what's going on here.

We left the chamber pretty much all furious. Granger was still looking miserable, and while the potion I gave her helped clean up the bleeding somewhat, there's something in the quill that makes the wounds resistant to healing. I debated giving her a dose of Mend, but it's a minor injury, and I don't think poisoning her to fix it is worth it, if she's going to do the same thing again.

I don't know what the others are planning.

But…

If Umbridge is willing to do

You know what?

 **No**.

 **Fuck** that.

I could run and hide, but that's not going to solve anything.

Tomorrow, we start figuring out how to take this bitch down. We can't kill her, but there are definitely ways to make this bitch miserable. The only thing we need to do is make sure she doesn't die.

But you'd be amazed at how much damage you can do to a human before they die.

She's attacked a friend.

Granger's one of the few people in this world that I actually trust. She's never betrayed me, and she treats me like a regular person.

Not to mention that it's really nice having someone able to double-check my wards.

If this wretch wants a fight, she's going to get one.

* * *

I should probably put this away. Ginny just gave me the evil eye for laughing maniacally at quarter-to-eleven.


	37. (Y4, P3, O1) Set It Off

_I'd like to raise a question, to anyone reading this story._

 _Namely, what is your opinion towards the amount of profanity in this story? I seem to naturally include it, along with other curses, because that apparently is how my internal voice speaks. Is it detrimental? Because if so, it is not a major factor of the story, and can be dropped as needed._

 _Thank you._

* * *

"For the record, this is a horrible idea.".

"Yes, well, I don't see you coming up with a better one."

"Why don't you ask the Ravenclaw then?"

The four students turned to Luna, who only shrugged in indifference. "The High Council of Snorkacks are currently in recess, and cannot answer your questions right now."

Harry groaned, as he rubbed his eyes in annoyance. It had seemed like a brilliant idea…

He frowned.

Honestly, in retrospect it was a stupid idea from the get-go. But with their planning department in detention, and nothing but a group full of angry Gryffindors to communicate with, they had decided through with it anyway.

Luna had of course joined them, mostly for her own personal amusement.

Either way, here they were, right outside of Umbridge's office. Hermione was inside, and had been told absolutely nothing yet, mostly because they were all tired and angry and honestly he hadn't done anything interesting all year and the suspense was starting to drive him crazy.

Usually he'd be attacked by Dementors or entered in a tournament or Skrewts or something. Honestly, it was kind of unnerving.

"Do you have the thingy?" asked Ron, somewhere behind him, as he shuffled his wand from hand to hand, keeping the outer edge pointed at the solid oak door the entire way.

"Yeah." stated Aurelia, somewhere to his right, as she retrieved a vial from a pocket. "For the record, here's to hoping the door's only anchored on the hinges. If it isn't, then this'll only make a lot of noise, and raise a lot of questions."

"Yeah well, if it isn't, then maybe it'll fall on her when she tries to open it." spoke Ginny with a definite snort, from her spot against a wall behind them.

There was a quiet drip drip of the potion spreading onto the metal hinges and the door's edge, before the quiet sizzle of corroding metal became barely audible.

"I never thought I'd ever find a use for Ginny's failed potions, but I guess today's the day." murmured Aura, as she stoppered the now-empty vial once more. There was a loud "Hey?" in return. "Should be cooked by now, so we're good to go."

"On four?" asked Harry, as he took up a position by the door. "Just like we planned, right?"

Ginny turned to the black-haired boy, eyes open in confusion. "What plan?"

"Y'know, the plan." replied Ron gesturing widely. "The plan I'm sure one of you guys has. I know you guys came up with one, you were telling me all about it."

He glanced around the hallway. One by one, the students shook their heads.

"I thought you were the one who came up with it."

"Seriously, Ron?"

"I'm just here to blow things up, Weasley."

"I blame Wrackspurts."

There was a quick exchange of glances, but at this point they had already sabotaged a door frame, and there was no point in trying to back out now. The five took up positions around the door, wands pointed directly towards it.

"Four… Three… Two… One!" counted down Harry, before he launched the strongest Blasting Curse he could at the door.

The other four cast at the same time.

With a near audible hiss, the five spells intersected, before colliding with the door. It exploded with an almighty boom, which rattled the gums of the five, knocking each and every one of them aside.

The poor door, liberated from its hinges, shot through the frame like it was struck by a cannon. Through the settling dust, Harry could briefly see… something.

Still, there was no time to think. They had to take down Umbridge before she could call for backup.

And hopefully before anyone came to figure out what exactly exploded, now that he thought about it.

With a unnecessary silent nod, the five charged into the room, wands ready.

"What is Merlin's name?" murmured Ron, with his eyes wide in terror.

It was like the book in the chamber, except worse.

Every single surface (or at least every surface not covered in dust or debris knocked free from the door) was hot pink, and over three-quarters of the available wallspace was covered in pictures of kittens.

Big kittens, little kittens, all hot pink.

"What… It's like she's trying to be human, but doesn't actually know how to…" murmured Ginny, although only Harry could see her friend pale slightly, before Luna rested a hand against her back.

Only then were they able to take in the situation, although their eyes continued to be drawn to the horrid, chinzy walls.

Namely, inside of the room was a group of terrified Muggleborn, including a rather-furious Hermione.

"What on earth were you thinking?" screamed the irate brunette.

The group had begun to defend themselves, before Hermione cut them off. "That flying door nearly hit one of us!"

The near-target, a young, brunette third-year Hufflepuff boy, nodded his head frantically.

"So." spoke Harry, as he glanced towards the gathered Muggleborn, a group of eight, excluding Hermione. "We're going to sabotage Umbridge's detention schedule, and you guys are free to go, as long as you don't spill that we did this."

There was an instantaneous, unified wave of assent, as the eight beat feet out of the office. It seemed there was little pity to go around for Umbridge.

There was a moment of silence, before a small groan of pain came up from behind where the door was located.

"Urghhh…"

Jolting into action, Harry quickly stunned the prone Professor, before calling over the rest of the group to flip the door off of her.

"Well, on the plus side, the room is mostly undamaged." stated Ron, although he shuddered when his eyes got to the section with the animated kittens. "If you replace the door frame, we're actually in the clear."

Harry stared down at the door for a second, before he called, "Dobby!"

The house-elf popped into place before him, deep in a bow. "Yes, Great Master Harry Potter sir?"

"We… uhh." began Harry, mentally attempting to come up with a lie, before giving up and just giving it to the house-elf straight. "We blew up a door, and dented the wall a bit. Can you fix it?"

Dobby glanced at the door, and then at the empty door frame. "Dobby can do that. Dobby will put the door back up when you leave."

And then the elf disappeared with a pop.

With that matter settled, they turned back to the stunned Professor.

"Sooo… did the door hit her?" asked a rather too-enthusiastic Aura.

"Unfortunately not." the other four stared blankly back at Hermione. "What? She tried to stab me when I started to cast the shield charm to deflect the door. If I hadn't done that, she'd be a splatter on the wall. 'Muggleborns are worthless' my ass.

Not to mention that stupid throat-clearing thing she does. I swear, if I had heard one more 'Hem, Hem', I'd have probably agreed with this plan, just on principle."

Ron blinked slowly. "Stab? Why didn't she try and hex you?"

"Because it seems the Arcanivorous Addlebugs might've been a bit hard on Umbridge." stated Luna.

There were a few blinks around the room, before Aura translated with a sigh. "Umbridge's pretty much a squib."

Only two of the six could hear Luna murmur, "You guys are no fun."

Hermione glanced at the stunned witch. "She's a squib, and she's really this bad? I mean, Filch is mean, but, really?"

"People want what they can't have, and attack those that do." stated Harry. "Not too much different than Malfoy, actually."

"So!" spoke Ginny, as she clapped her hands. "We should probably get out of here as soon as possible. Let's get this show on the road."

With a nod, Luna meandered over to the Professor.

"Memory removal only, please." stated Harry. "We don't want her tracking this back to us."

Luna pouted, but nodded nonetheless. "If you wish her to remain ignorant, than I suppose I can grant that wish…"

" **Obliviate!** " Luna incanted.

Harry himself had begun to dig through Umbridge's desk, in desperate hope of finding the schedule of Muggleborn in detention.

He found a diary instead, a horrid, hot-pink monstrosity.

"What I'd give for the sword back, right about now." he murmured, as he placed the diary aside for later.

He found the schedule at the bottom of the opposite drawer, underneath a dozen more cat pictures. Shrugging as he moved the pictures aside, he cast an Ink-Removing charm on the schedule, carefully aiming to avoid mussing the lines, before he replaced it back at the bottom of the desk, entirely blank.

* * *

While Luna slowly worked through the Memory Charm, and Harry doing his own thing, the remaining four of the group were having a different discussion.

"So… we should probably mess this place up a bit." stated Aura, as she pointed at the

Let's be honest here, no matter where she pointed, she'd likely end up pointing at a cat. Or the horrid walls.

"Why?" asked Ron, scratching his head in confusion.

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, before nodding. "Yeah. If we make it look like she got stunned as a prank, and can't remember anything, then it'll look less suspicious than if we… you had just attacked her."

"And then we can blame Fred and George." snorted Ginny. "They'd love to be responsible for this mess. Not like they care if they're expelled either. Mum'll go spare, but they're used to it."

"So… what do we do? We can't just burn this office down." spoke Ron, before he added, "Although the idea is really, really tempting."

"Flip all the picture frames upside down?" ventured Ginny.

"Randomly move the books out of alphabetical order." added Hermione.

" **Glamus Perminus.** " incanted Aura, who had ignored the suggestions, instead choosing to point her wand at one of the many picture frames.

A multi-colored glob of shiny, sticky glitter shot out of the end of her wand, before impacting one of the frames with its radiance. "I'm… not actually sure whether or not this hurts or helps the situation." she admitted, as she ran her hand over the space above her ear.

Ginny giggled slightly. "We should paint the entire office with it. Even the roof and floor. When does it come off?"

"It doesn't. And trying to dispel it just makes it spread." stated Aura.

"That spell is horrible. We are horrible people. We should definitely do it." agreed Hermione, as she prepared her own wand. "What's the wand movement?"

"Sweep left, sweep right, jab." stated Aura, as she painted another square foot. "It's an easy spell though, so if you overpower it you don't really need the movement, and can just jab." Quickly enough, the remaining three joined her.

* * *

By the time Luna was done, and Harry was once again able to turn his concentration back to the rest of the room, he was greeted with a strange sight.

The room, already hot-pink, now glimmered with a thousand motes of light, with even the slightest of changes causing a cascade of different colors. This multicolored distortion coated half of the classroom already, and Hermione, Aura, Ginny, and Ron were currently working to extend the area further.

"What are you…" began Harry.

"We're making it look like a prank." stated Ron, hand still moving, but the distraction fizzled his current spell. "Makes it harder to track back to us."

Harry nodded, then quickly gathered the casting specifications from Hermione.

* * *

Four minutes later, they left the room, now entirely covered.

Three seconds later, the door returned to its position with a small pop. Dobby soon followed, moving into a deep bow before he disappeared one more.

"Well, that went well." stated Harry, as he stared at the restored door.

"We… should probably get out of here." added Ginny, eyeing the still-empty, but likely to fill at any moment corridor.

"Right."

* * *

Dolores Umbridge had a hangover. That much was obvious, at least from the pounding in her head.

The worst bit was, she couldn't remember what she had done last night, nor the night before it. She could feel that she had slept on her desk, which was never comfortable, regardless of how many nights over the years she had done so.

Honestly, she needed to invest in more comfortable desks. Either that, or drink less whiskey.

Yes, the desk was a good idea.

Slowly, she cracked open her eyes, before blearily rubbing them.

When her vision stopped swimming, she slowly rose to her feet, before opening her eyes entirely.

Every surface of her office was coated in a thick layer of glitter.

Her inner princess squealed in joy, although her face betrayed no emotion. Good. Her drunken revel must've been productive this time, then. Usually she ended up burning something down or signing random forms. That had been what had gotten her into this mess, after all. On the plus side, it made sifting through dozens of forms bearable. After all, one does not need to be sober to stamp paperwork. Not like anyone read the damn things anyway.

Nodding towards the englittered picture frames, ceiling, and floor, she absentmindedly reached into her desk, in search of her schedule.

Miracle of miracles, she had a clear schedule!

Smiling the sort of smile only normally seen in rather ugly fish, Umbridge reached her other hand towards where she had stored her diary, only for her hand to grasp nothing.

'Ugh.' she thought, 'Did I leave it at the bar again?'

Slowly and ponderously, she rose to her feet, before beginning to glance both ways. Upon confirming that the room was indeed empty, she slowly skipped her way over to the door, before attempting to open it. Unfortunately, it seemed to be stuck.

Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled a bit harder, and felt something give. Smiling, she closed her eyes, as she continued to pull.

She opened her eyes just in time to watch the wooden door fall towards her. She emitted a strangled cry not unlike a moose falling off a cliff, before it collided with her with a thud.

* * *

"Did you tell Dobby to fix the hinges, too?" asked Ron, as they prepared for bed.

Harry thought back for a moment, before shaking his head. "Dobby probably did it anyway. He knows what I mean, most of the time."

"Okay, that's good."


	38. (Y4, P4) Paradise

_Ehehehhh… Bought myself a new game (read, four of them) on Steam, and that's what I've been doing for the last few weeks, rather than actually work on this._

 _And they're all JRPGs, so they've got a LOT of playtime. I just finished the first one, and I think I devoted what, 50 hours to it? The second one, however, only took 17 hours for the first playthrough, so I'm not too happy with it._

 _That added onto writers block which JUST WON'T GO AWAY ( **Redacted** ), and this chapter was a mess to make. Oh well, it'll be posted when it's done, whenever that is._

 _It's a little bit shorter than I'd have hoped, but I can always touch back up on it later._

* * *

Crap. So much for stealth.

Well, on the plus side, Umbridge is out of the picture for the next week. Those doors are all heavy, so I can't imagine the landing on her would be pleasant.

Unfortunately, we're all acutely aware that, the moment she gets her flabby ass out of the Hospital Wing, she's going to take it out on the students.

On the plus side, Dumbledore himself is stepping in for Defense while the teacher recovers, and thus we're learning actual material. His teaching style is a bit weird, pretty much all by word and action, rather than having a solid teaching plan, but it's definitely a lot better than Umbridge.

Normally, having Umbridge out of the picture would be something to celebrate, but none of the six of us are sure yet whether or not the Obliviation held, and that could mean anything from us getting off scott-free to all six of us ending up in Azkaban.

I honestly would prefer Azkaban to immediate destruction, what with the fact that Potter's godfather managed to escape the same prison with nothing but a little shape-shifting.

Plus, yknow, it's not like the demons would be able to affect me as much as a regular person, so that's a benefit, I guess. Still wouldn't be pleasant, and would raise all sorts of questions when, and definitely it would happen, I break out.

Anyway, the deadline for the potion's coming up, and I really want to get it done while Umbridge is still incapacitated. Or at least get the practice done. I've got two samples brewed up already, both of which I'm happy enough with.

I'm pretty sure I'll display it next week, which means I've got some time to kill.

What was that saying about idle hands and devils, again?

* * *

It's been three days, and nothing's happened to any of us. Still, it's not a real excuse for any of us to slack. We've been pushing hard on the training down in the chamber, although from the way Potter's acting, he's taking it rather too seriously.

He's beginning to run himself ragged, at that, if his eyes are any indication. We already got on his case slightly, telling him to ease up, slightly, but I don't think he's going any lighter than he was before.

Maybe we'll get Ginny to try to talk to him. Don't know if it'll work, but it's worth a shot.

Anyway, we're down the list of spells now, and I've got a decent feel for what each of the six of us are good at, and where we're not so great. We've all got our own specialties, for better or for worse.

Potter's probably the strongest ' _real_ ' spellcaster among us, although he mostly sticks to the standard direct spells: Stunners, Disarmers, and the Blasting Curse. His Stunner's strong enough to mess with my balance already (with two being enough to knock me down, usually), but I'm still able to just shrug off the occasional Disarmer. Still confuses him when I pull it off, which is always funny.

Still, as strong as Potter is, he's got pretty much nothing for dealing with big groups, nor for dealing with obstacles or things he can't get a clear shot at.

Weasley's style is all about battlefield control. I've heard that he's good at chess, but seriously, being backed into a corner during a duel is never fun. I swear, every time I try and dodge in one direction, he has the next spell already set up for right there!

His power isn't too great, however, and while he can pretty much always win against Ginny or Potter, assuming he manages to force them into a pattern. Me and Luna, however, are a little bit harder for him (though I still go even at best…), since I can 'cheat' and take spells that take down anyone else, and Luna's pretty much entirely unpredictable.

Granger seems to be all about knowing the perfect counter for whatever she runs into. Half of the spells we throw at her she counters midair, and the rest either get Shielded away or dodged out of. She doesn't, however, do so great against 'weird' spells, including pretty much anything Luna throws at her, or anything else she can't identify.

Watching Granger and Weasley is actually pretty cool, however. Sure, it takes a while, since neither of them are really good at starting it off, but it's the closest thing we have to a balanced duel down here. Still, after about two minutes of them trading the occasional spell, one of the two gets the advantage and the other surrenders.

Luna, is weird.

Actually, no. Correction: Luna, is Luna. I don't know if she's go silent casting down, and likes to mess with us by shouting gibberish, or if she just has an entirely different spellbook than us, but I've seen her cast spells that you'd need to see to believe. Illusions, sensory-affecting spells, and this weird colorless gas-thing that passed _through_ Granger's shield for a win.

Unfortunately, as weird and cool as her spells tend to be, they're a lot slower to cast than what the rest of us are using, so Potter, Ginny and I can power right through her defenses in the time it takes for her to set up.

Ginny's got a similar style to Potter, except a little bit more focus on finesse, over direct power. Lots of blasting, stunning, and the like, but unlike Potter, who pretty much always aims for the chest, Ginny tends to aim (at least in my case) at the hands or the shoulders. She's still missing pretty often, but when it does hit, it's definitely getting great bang for its buck.

She's finally strong enough to force me to commit when a soak a spell: two or three hits is enough to take me down, which she's doing distressingly often. Not like I let her do so easily though, since our matches tend to be rather close.

I'd call her my rival, but I'm not sure if that's the correct term. Rival brings to mind Malfoy for Potter, and I don't think I'd ever be able to stomach that sort of thing.

And then there's me. I'm not the odd one out, actually. A lot of what I do is battlefield control, like Weasley, mixed evenly with weird, like Luna. Fire spells, with the occasional flank by summons (I had to show everyone Cinder, but it was worth it) is pretty much my go-to, although I do mix it up with Stunners, Knockback Jinxes, and a few custom spells of my own. Add in the fact that I'm still soaking the occasional weaker spell (which I know I shouldn't be getting used to, since we're going to be dealing with the Killing Curse a lot out there...), and I actually have a pretty good chance in a one-on-one.

With everything as it is, I'm generally able to take down Granger and Luna (except when Luna's in a bad mood and stops pulling her punches, at which point we go even), go even with Ginny and her brother and lose about three-quarters of the time to Potter.

One of these days I _will_ figure out how to beat him, but right now, my only wins have been me summoning something, and then rushing him down.

I might be learning more about magic from Dumbledore up above, but I'm definitely learning more about myself down here.

* * *

And who can forget about Quidditch.

While I've been off in my own little world of Potioncraft, training, random persecution, and evil toad-women, the Quidditch season has been progressing, as it is wont to do.

I know this, because Ginny dragged me down to watch., so I'm writing this particular entry a little bit later than I had hoped.

Yes, Ginny made the team, but apparently Gryffindor's got a pretty solid team right now: with the current Chasers (the position she's aiming for) being in their last year, they want to spend as much time as possible up in the air. Thus, Ginny, (the replacement in training), ever the fan, dragged me down to watch.

If she were up in the air, I'd be less bothered about the whole thing. Right now, she's only watching Potter, and giving excited play-by-plays of the various players, including two of her brothers (the twins).

She's just as biased as the other announcer, by the way, not like it's a bad thing.

Anyway, now that she's explained to me what exactly is going on (her commentary, along with actually giving me a rulebook to read), I have to say there's a bit more to the game than I thought there was. The Seekers (the guys who stay up top and watch), apparently, aren't actually there to win the game: they're more like a flexible stopwatch.

Basically, it's almost impossible to communicate with the Seekers during the game, save for getting a player to fly directly to them. Also, it takes pretty much the Seeker's entire attention to find the Snitch (A little, golden ball), thus, the players need to score enough of a lead on the bottom of the field before either Seeker ends the game.

Sure, it's possible to tell the Seeker to hold off on catching the Snitch before a certain point and run up the score, but that leaves the field open for the other team.

It'd probably be more balanced if the Snitch was worth less points, like fifty or something. Zero would also work, but would drag the games on for way longer than they should.

Eugh, I've written way more on this than I thought I would… I guess her enthusiasm rubbed off on me somewhat. Still, there was definitely some impressive flying out there from Potter, along with the rest.

I know Ginny's aching to join him up there, when her time comes, and when she does, I'll be there to watch, even without prompting.

Still, it feels good to have friends, even if I can't tell them everything. I mean, Ginny was, and probably will be my best friend for a long while, but…

I trust them. I never thought I'd trust a group of people, but I do.

And if all I need to do for them to keep trusting me too is to suffer through the occasional Quidditch game, or help them out when they need it, I'd be more than happy to go through with it.

I guess this is what it's like to be human.

* * *

Tomorrow is the last day before Umbridge gets out of the Hospital wing. As probably horrifying (I don't really find it abhorrent, but Granger's sorta iffy about whether or not it is justified or not) as it is, there's already rumors and bets flying around for someone to go and break into the wing, and keep her out of the picture for longer.

Dumbledore might be slightly crazy, and slightly dangerous for me, but at least he knows how to teach. We've somehow, in three weeks, caught up to the level of material we should've been at.

I have no idea how he did it, but I suppose experience is good for something. There's actually been another surge in respect for him, which while probably good for his overall magic power, _definitely_ isn't going to be doing him any favors to Umbridge's mood.

Still, pretty much no one is happy to be going back to the level of education that we were receiving earlier. A few students already tried to beg him for private teaching sessions.

Potter's already received a couple of glances, since it's more or less known (at least to the Gryffindors), that we're training him outside of classes. Either that, or they believe his libido knows no bounds.

Still haven't told anyone in the group that particular rumor, and I'm waiting for the time to do so. Hopefully, it'll turn both him and Ginny entirely red.

It's always funny how people do that.

Anyway, back to my last moments of freedom before Umbridge breaks free from her confinement.

I already booked my demonstration for Snape for today, in an hour and a half, at that, so I guess I should really get prepared.

It's been the best week of my life, and I intend to end it on a high note.


	39. (Y4, P4, O1) Brewing

* _Sigh*. I really do want to get back into writing this story, but I'm having issues. I have a lot planned for it, but it's like a missing steps plan, 1, 2, 3, and 5, 6 7 are done, but 4 is still sort of iffy._

 _I've started another story, but it's on an entirely different creative vein than this one, so I don't think it'll interfere that much._

 _Still, I guess any progress is good progress. I'll do my best to get out a chapter or two a month, at the very least._

 _This week: Potioneering! With actual talent!_

* * *

"Come in." beckoned Severus Snape, as he dramatically gestured from his seat. "You begin immediately."

Gingerly, the blonde Gryffindor stepped inside the classroom, nodded towards Snape, and began her walk to one of the Potioneering stations. With a slightly shaky gesture, she began to extract various ingredients from one of the adjacent cupboards.

Acutely aware that it'd likely be several minutes at the very least before anything truly happened, Snape turned his attention to the ever-growing pile of horrendously-penned essays below him. Had none of these children ever even seen a dictionary?

'D, D, D, D. All of these bloody essays are D. No wait, this one is a T.' grumbled Snape, before a muted hiss drew his attention upwards.

In front of the Gryffindor, were several large piles of ingredients, along with several, much smaller piles.

Resisting the urge to rub his eyes, he muttered, "And what exactly is the problem now?"

"Ingredients are crap." groaned Cain, as she continued to sift through the drawers. "I can't use even half of these. If I do, the potion will kill someone."

An eyebrow slowly raised. "And you cannot use your own ingredients for this brew?"

More shuffling of third-rate ingredients. "How can you tell that I haven't tampered with the ingredients beforehand? I'd like to prove at at least half of this can be run-of-the-mill."

With a near imperceptible nod, Snape replied, "Continue."

There was only a bit more banging around, before an slight grunt of accomplishment once again drew his eyes up off of the parchment.

"I think I've got everything." spoke the Gryffindor, as she placed aside her knife, and lifted her cauldron up above the fire, dragonskin gloves donned.

'Ah, so it begins.' thought Snape, as he sauntered over to the prepared station.

The ingredients made logical sense, at least.

Hydra bile and macerated ivy, while relatively uncommon in a brew, had their uses in powerful restoratives. Troll marrow and cobwebs, in strength-bolstering unctions. The still-living cockroaches, and bezoar, however, were much different than the usual fare, as was the strange vial of blackish fluid lying just to the right of the trapped roaches.

"And what exactly, is this brew of yours supposed to accomplish?" stated Snape, as he leaned closer to take a better look at the ingredients.

As expected, all were of the correct quality, save for the still-unidentifiable vial. The roaches shook their antennae back at him feebly, as they raged against their glass prison, which was nought but an upturned glass.

"It's a skin-repairing potion." answered the girl, as she set down the cauldron, filled it from a downspout, and retrieved her knife. Slowly, she began to prepare and add the ingredients.

"It's meant for dealing with critical bodily wounds, and is extremely quick at restoring damage to soft tissue. Unfortunately, it's still a little bit poisonous, so it's only good in an emergency." continued the girl, as she lit the fire below the cauldron, bringing the still-pure water to a slow boil.

'Interesting.' pondered Snape. "Would is have any effect upon the eyes, for example?"

The bile, marrow, and vial were vigorously whipped together into a thick, gelatinous paste, which was quickly dissolved into the bubbling cauldron.

The girl frowned as she shook her head. "I couldn't find a volunteer willing enough to test that out." There was a slight, unnecessary flourish with the knife, as she mimed a quick stabbing motion. It didn't take a genius to understand her point.

The cobwebs were next, sprinkled lightly onto the surface of the potion, which quickly devoured the silken strands.

"Not even a Gryffindor?"

The roaches soon followed, first removed one-by-one from their glass prison, and then de-winged with a single,practiced motion. They were then thrown, still alive, into the brew. The bezoar followed immediately after, being crushed with the flat of the knife, and then gingerly being lowered in.

There was a slight, restrained chuckle. "Nope. Turns out, not even they are that dumb."

The potion's hue had slowly shifted to a murky, uneasy mauve as its substance began to grow thicker. The slight, acrid smell of burning flesh and electricity wafted from below.

"And what, dare say, was in that vial?"

The Gryffindor paused slightly, before recovering. "Dilluted Pyrodaemon blood. Three to one blood to grain alcohol. My father's a Dark Creature hunter, so he's always able to scrounge up a decent supply of it."

Pyrodaemon blood?

Torn between curiosity for the potion, and curiosity of the source, Snape glanced down at the potion. It was fully assembled now, and from the rate it was being stirred, would likely require far more than a handful of minutes to proceed to the next phase. More than enough to glean the answer to his question.

With practiced ease, he engaged his Legilimency, and thrust it forward into the mind of the girl before him.

It was surprisingly difficult.

The memories of her father, providing her with the vial, were easily accessible, but beyond that, things quickly became hazy. She wasn't a Occlumens by any means, but the memories seemed to fade into a distorted mess, growing more and more incomprehensible the further in he pressed. His attempts to discern the true source of the vial, the answer he was searching for, retrieved naught but a sense of vertigo, and a slight sense of unease.

Giving up that particular question as a lost cause, he turned his attention towards other matters. After all, Albus had asked him to keep an eye upon Potter, and with the interference of Umbridge, he hadn't been able to fully get a read on the boy. However, if the girl in front of him was as close with Potter as she seemed to be, she'd likely be just as effective a target.

Unfortunately, his mind wasn't quite as quiet as he had hoped, and his remark about Umbridge did not go unheard.

Sensing the stray thought, the girl's mind shot into overdrive, throwing back vivid images of the recent sabotage of Umbridge's office, intermixed with a near oppressive feeling of fear, disgust, and hatred. Snape could see the involvement of Potter and his gang of misfits as well, but he supposed that could go unreported. Umbridge had, after all, attempted to audit him.

He did not appreciate that gesture in the slightest.

Further pushing on the subject of Potter returned mixed signals. Traces of hope, fear, and paranoia interlaced memory after memory of them training together. Good, so they were, in fact, continuing to train. Albus had hoped that they'd be doing so, but to have it confirmed would help assuage the old codger's worries.

Even further probing revealed the renovation of the Chamber, Umbridge's assaulting of the Muggleborn, even the dozens of embarrassments continually piled up upon Potter's little gang of misfits by miscommunication, stubbornness, and what appeared to be a rather disturbing fascination from Miss Cain's roommate.

Nothing out of the ordinary. With a accepting, (although still confused) blink of assent, he retreated back to his own mind, to continue watching the potion.

"Okay…" murmured Cain as she retrieved her wand. "Now either you can boil it for another thirty minutes, or you can superheat it for only three. I'm going to superheat it, just because it's faster."

There was a slight flick, as the flames below tripled in size and heat, shifting from a deep red to a brilliant blue. The potion's bubbling rose in frequency, as the potion began its rapid shift towards its final state.

"The potion's not really meant for non-serious injuries, though." admitted Cain. "Unless you're really hurt, it's generally not worth it, since it puts you out of the picture for a while."

Snape nodded. "The potion is poisonous, then?"

"Kind of. It won't kill you, but it definitely isn't good for you, and won't feel good for you either. From what I can tell, it really messes with your balance, and if you're not careful you'll fall over, so it's no good in a fight." stated Cain, as she removed her stirrer from the roiling solution, "Still, better to be poisoned slightly, rather than be missing half of your face. Another bezoar after you take the potion generally fixes the poisoning, but it also kicks out the effect, so you need to wait until after it does its work."

With a slight deep breath, Cain retrieved an empty flask from a cupboard, glanced at it, and then quashed the flames below the cauldron. Slowly, the potion's bubbling died down, leaving naught but the distant drip of the pipes on stone in the distance.

"After it's cooled, it should be done. All in all, this potion takes about thirty minutes to brew the fast way, and is good for about a year and a half. A flask is four doses." continued Cain, as she recited a list she had obviously prepared beforehand.

There were several moments of awkward silence, as the potion slowly cooled. The blonde fidgeted before him, likely unsure of whether or not she had succeeded.

Eventually, the potion did cool, and the flask was offered to the Potion Master.

Taking the offered flask, Snape stepped forward, retrieved a ladle, and dipped it into the solution. Slowly, he filled the flask, taking great care to not spill a drop.

The potion was identical to the sample he had been given before. The hue, consistency, and smell were the same.

"Does the potion have a name?" asked Snape, as he held the potion up to the light, to search for potential solids. None.

"I call it Mend, for lack of a better name." admitted the blonde, as she glanced into her cauldron, looking for mistakes, likely.

"The potion appears… adequate." stated Snape in a flat tone, as he slowly swirled the flask. "But does it work?"

"I… um… I could go find a rat or animal or something?" murmured the blonde, as she glanced about her in a panic. "Crap! I didn't think that far ahead!" was her (much quieter) addition.

"No need."

The potion was, to the best of his knowledge, perfect. Or at least, perfect enough for him to trust it to work. Thus, without even a hint of hesitation, he removed his own silver knife from his pocket, tested the edge with a finger, and then ran it, blade down, along the edge of his off arm.

Long years as the whipping boy of Voldemort himself had all but deadened most of his nerves, so he felt nothing as he deftly removed several inches of flesh from his arm. Barely enough to inconvenience himself, but more than enough to prove the potion's effectiveness. The flesh below was bloody nonetheless, but barely enough so to be noticeable at a glance.

It amused him greatly to watch the look of horror, pain, and revulsion that danced across the girl's rapidly-paling face as he did so. Was she afraid of cutting her arms? That would definitely explain the hesitation she always bore when handling her knives, and her near slavish insistence upon wearing gloves whenever she worked with said knives.

The deed was done. Now to test the potion.

Snape raised the potion to his lips, and took a swig.

The side-effects began almost immediately, as the fluid numbed the flesh of his mouth. The numbness followed the liquid's path, down the throat, and into the gut. With great care, he stoppered the flask, and handed it back to the wary Gryffindor, who silently accepted the flask.

Unlike Skele-Gro, the potion he assumed was the closest in effect to this one, this potion's effect was less of a stabbing pain, and more of an insatiable, searing itch, interlaced with a burning. His vision began to swim as his eyes unfocused slightly. Still, he was used to this, having consumed far worse draughts, and having suffered far worse effects.

Even as the dizziness from the poison began to set in though, he could still plainly see the magic begin to take effect.

The effect of the potion was definitely much faster than Skele-Grow, as the edges of the exposed flesh seemingly melted, flowing over the exposed wound, leaving behind a thin membrane. In seconds, the exposed wound was again covered and staunched of bleeding, and while the itchiness did not subside, the feeling of air upon exposed, bloody flesh all but vanished.

In moments, the flesh once again crept outwards, until it sat, full healed and unblemished, as if nothing had ever happened.

Quite loudly, Cain let out a shaky breath as the potion finished its work.

Snape considered his options.

On one hand, he knew that the potion's poisonous effects would do nearly nothing to him, as his hard-earned resistance to most poisons had been cultivated over many years of potioncraft.

On the other, his face was quite numb, and he'd likely sound quite foolish speaking without a working tongue.

With a shrug, he retrieved another bezoar from the cupboard, swallowed it, waited until he could feel his tongue once more, and then turned back towards his student.

"It works." was his answer.

"It works." was the reply, although it was intersected by a gulp. Nothing much more needed to be said. "Do you want me to leave you the potion? I think the Hospital Wing would get better use out of it than I would."

"Indeed."

The tension in the air was all but gone as the girl quickly bottled up her potion. In total, there were five additional flasks of ready-made potion, more than enough to last a year.

Probably more than a year, but if Potter's exploits continued to ascend in danger, it'd be likely far less than that.

The girl finally broke into a smile as she gathered her supplies and headed for the door.

She paused slightly, before speaking over her shoulder, "See you next week, Professor Snape?"

"Yes." affirmed Snape, as he began to scrawl down a detailed recipe for the potion, for later reproduction.

The girl did not turn to face him as she left, but if she had, she'd have seen the slight traces of a genuine smile.


	40. Haitus!

Hey.  
As much as I hate to say this, I'm having quite a few problems writing the plot of this story. I've got a ton of things I want to do with it, and I had so much planned... But I just can't get the ideas out onto paper. Or text, in this case.  
Thus, rather than push out shoddy content, I think it'd be for the best to hiatus this story, for a month or two, or however long it takes to get my groove back.  
No, my new story isn't responsible for killing my interest in this one: it's more that I just don't have enough of a emfeel/em for the canon characters any more: I don't know how they'll react to change B because of event C any more, and with a departure from canon as massive as what I had planned already in progress, it was harder and harder to come up with ideas.  
No, I do not plan on abandoning this story altogether. Honestly, Aurelia is probably one of my favourite OCs of all time, and I refuse to let her die in a shallow grave. However, I can't do a story justice, if I don't know what I'm doing any more.  
Perhaps I might rewrite the story at some point, or perhaps I might reboot it. All I know, is that until I have a plan in place, this story shall be on hold.  
To the few readers who have been regularly checking this story: Thank you for your patronage. It means a lot to me.  
I'll be seeing you later, I suppose.  
~Shattersoul.


End file.
